Mutual Violent Control
by OnTheWildside
Summary: The highly awaited (mostly by me) sequel to Collision Repair. Aberdeen and Mac's relationship has finally worked out all of the kinks when Devon returns to Cainville bringing with him his little sister, friends, and the wrath of the cave. Rated M for Mac-mouth, Mac-smut, and general Mac-ness.
1. Day 1

**Guys, I just couldn't hold back much longer. It's (Whiskey) Wednesday here, so in celebration I decided to post as soon as possible. It's also snowing here in November (I live in the South, so snow in general is rare) and I have a cold cat on my lap. **

**Before we dig into the good stuff, I wanted to take the time out to discuss this story. ****First and foremost, Mac is Mac. I do not intend on changing him for my own purposes, I only wish to borrow him for my own demented, sick enjoyment. I want everything I do to be realistic. If it isn't, why would I bother? I think anyone who is here, reading this, knows exactly what they are getting into because they watched a film and fell in lust with a character. Personally, I found myself in this predicament because of how Mac acts, not because of who played him (though it didn't hurt).**

**Second of all, this story will follow the timeline of the film _Red Canyon_. I will not even beat around the bush, I'm not going to change the ending of the movie, I'm simply going to insert Aberdeen into it. But trust me, I have a few tricks and ideas up my sleeves. Things will be dubbed from the film and the timeline will stay the same. I may add in some extra days, maybe flashbacks. Not too sure yet. It will be mostly from Aberdeen's perspective. **

**If you're still interested in continuing, please make sure you have read **_**Collision Repair**_** first! It's not a requirement, but it will definitely help things make sense. **

**I'm so glad you stopped by and I hope you like what you see! I'm really excited to write this one, I missed Aberdeen something awful and I was anxious for her triumphant return. I'm so glad to be able to share it with you all! Definitely let me know what you think if you make it to the end! Love you all!**

**Warning:**** As with all of my Mac fics, this isn't for the faint of heart. This chapter has graphic sex, foul language, and general Mac-Ness for your viewing pleasure. ;)**

* * *

******Mutual Violent Control:** this kind of violence may be what is thought of as mutual combat. It can be two parties using violence to control each other in a specific setting, or be more like two people attempting a kind of intimate terrorism with each other.

* * *

"No, no, no. A thousand times no." Aberdeen said, soundly. She cleaned the motor oil off of her arms and threw the filthy rag on the floor of the garage. "I did the tune up on the Nissan, I refuse to be late to the salon. My roots have been showing for weeks!"

"You can do this after! Please! As you can see, Mac didn't bother coming in and there's no way I can get out of here."

"Call Walter. I'm not doing it."

"You're already going into town!"

"You won't drop this, will you?"

"Not a chance."

She sighed, defeated. "What do I do?"

"You just walk up to the counter and tell them you are there for S.A.M.'s order."

"S.A.M.?"

"Stanley. Aberdeen. Mac. S.A.M." Stan smirked, feeling clever. "Mac thought of that one."

"What happens if I get pulled over with 50 gallons of Drano?" She quipped.

"Don't get pulled." He said simply. "Look, I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't think you could do it. Walter never does this shit, I can't find Mac, Harley's on duty, and here you are, already off for the afternoon and already heading to town. It's fate!"

"That's a fucked up sense of fate." She mocked.

He pulled out his keys and handed them to her. "Take the truck."

"Why not just take my Suburban? It's a covered bed." She shrugged. She had a point, the Suburban she bought had come in handy over the past few months. She paid for it in cash (with help from Mac's lucrative business) and custom painted it rose gold. The Utah terrain required something a little bigger that handled better than her typical sports cars.

Her cousin nodded his consent. "Address is on my GPS. Just act casual about it. Guy's cool, knows what's up. You just need to be careful on the road. Don't get pulled."

"Yes, Sir." She teased, snatching the keys and grabbing her purse. "You be careful, too."

"What for?" He asked quizzically.

"Well, I'd hate to be you when Mac comes back and finds out where I am." She shot back, pulling herself into the cab of the SUV and slamming the door.

* * *

Aberdeen pulled up outside of the supply store late that evening.

She had her hair touched up, trimmed, and blown out. She even had a pedicure and manicure done while she was at it. Her nails were all a patent leather, shiny, pure black and she was feeling particularly confident when she walked in the door.

"Can I help you miss?" A young man behind the counter asked eagerly.

She approached the counter and noticed his name tag. "Yeah, Tim. I actually need to pick up an order." She tried to make it sound casual, to fight through her nerves.

"Oh?" He asked, raising a brow at her. "What's the name?"

"S.A.M." She said, self-assuredly.

He gave her another wayward glance, obviously thrown off. He typed it in and printed out the order, raising his eyebrows when he noted the products. "That's quite a bit of lye and Drano."

"Family plumbing business." She answered all too quickly with a cheeky grin.

"Uh huh…" He muttered, obviously not convinced. "You can pull up to the platform. It's all on a pallet in the back."

She slipped back out the door to her Suburban and felt his eyes on her ass in those black leggings she had worn out. _Men._

She did as she was told, backing the truck up to the loading dock and popping the back door open. As promised, the pallet sat there on a forklift.

"This ain't Stan's truck." Tim muttered.

"Sorry, boys. Gonna have to hand load it this time. Hope that's not an issue."

"No, it's fine." Tim raised his brows at her and smirked. "So, you Stan's girl 'r somethin'?"

"Not exactly." She scoffed. "He's my cousin. More like a big brother, really."

"So you ain't in the family business, then?"

She rolled her eyes. Small talk was not on her agenda for the day. "Not directly."

As though he sensed her interest waning, he got to the point. "You doin' anythin' tonight?"

_If I'm lucky, probably Mac._ "Guess it depends on if my boyfriend comes back from his trip to Mexico."

"Oh." He said, sounding completely let down.

"Have you met Mac?"

She must have piqued his interest again. His eyes grew big like saucers and his jaw dropped a little. "_Mac_?"

"Yeah, my boyfriend." She smirked at his reaction. He obviously had.

"Let's get this show on the road, boys! Don't wanna keep the nice lady waiting!" Tim commanded. Everyone picked up the pace.

* * *

She pulled up to the cave before dusk. To her chagrin, Mac wasn't there.

She pulled out her cell phone and called her cousin. "He's not here."

"You home yet?"

"No, the cave. Like I'm gonna fuckin' ride around with all this Drano and lye in my car?" She rolled her eyes. Despite the dark, she grabbed her flashlight and decided to take a look around the cave. She knew the pathways well enough to get to Mac's cooking station and cut on the lights, but she had no idea how she would carry all this stuff in.

"Just take it to your place. I'll take it in the morning." He said simply. "He came back."

"Mac?" She said hopefully, rounding the last corner to the cave and cutting on a flood lamp like it was second nature.

"Yeah, he called us to meet him at the Mesa."

"Us as in…" She spotted something bright that obviously didn't belong in the room lying casually on the mattress.

"Just the guys." He reiterated.

"Typical." Mac had been gone for almost a week. His way of telling her had been fucking her brains into the wall before he walked out to his truck and took off.

She picked up the bright turquoise off the mattress and her stomach lurched. Panties. Panties that she didn't recognize. "Fucking Mac." She snorted, tossing the underwear in her pocket and looking around the room. Everything seemed to be in order. "I'll take the stuff back home."

"Yeah, just stay put. I won't be out long."

"Whatever." She muttered. Her mind was already reeling when she hung up on her cousin.

Aberdeen had no disillusions about Mac. He was a stone cold killed. A monster of a man who preyed on the innocent.

The past year she had been pushing her limits, trying to keep him interested. The fact of the matter was that she thought she could feel his tolerance of her waning, but it may have just been the guilt she felt for the things she had done.

Aberdeen had her own guilty conscience to caudle. She had done horrible things, things she could never undo. The worst part was, she wasn't remorseful. Not in the least.

* * *

If she wanted to get Mac's attention, she knew exactly how. Aberdeen pulled up to the Luna Mesa just after sunset, smirking to herself when she saw Mac's truck. She parked beside him, closer to the door.

She dropped from the truck, barefoot as usual, tugging the latex bandage dress down a little more, assuring it covered her private areas. The dress was tight, sleeveless and curve hugging. It left little to the imagination and was sure to get Mac's attention. Aberdeen had no doubt that if she bent over, everything she had to offer would be out for display.

She dropped her leopard print spiked heels on the ground, slipping her feet in and strapping them on, careful not to stab herself with the spikes that wrapped the ankle straps. She was dressed for war.

She grabbed the discarded panties from the cave and opened the door to Mac's truck, dangling them from the rear view mirror before heading inside.

She ignored the glances she got as she climbed the stairs, entering the Luna Mesa and walking straight up to the bar. Walter gave her a second glance, scowling in her direction as he pulled the bottle of Jameson off the shelf in anticipation of her order. He poured her drink and as she came closer, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her ear to his lips. "Mac's not gonna be too happy 'bout this."

"Good. That's kind of the point." She smirked, taking the drink and turning around to survey the bar scene. She caught a glance of Stan and Mac's other drug runners in the corner; their usual table. Her cousin glared at her, almost in pity. She quickly realized why.

"The fuck you think yer doin' comin' out the house like that?" Mac sneered, voice husky in her ear, close enough to give her shivers, trying to speak over the loud din of the bar. His hands came to either side of her on the bar, pressing her into the counter. His erection already ground into her lower back, letting her know she was succeeding.

"Nice to see you too, baby." She purred.

"Don't fuckin' start, Aberdeen." He growled. "Ye tryin' ta get me ta beat yer ass, now?"

"'Pound my ass' was actually the reaction I was going for."

"Couldn't do that with clothes on?" He chuckled.

"Why are you upset? You know I'm yours." She smirked, knowing she had just said the magic words.

"Then why ye given all these men in 'ere an eyeful o' what's mine?" His hand grazed her thigh, trailing slowly up the inside until he met the apex of her thighs and stopped, his entire body tense. "Y'ain't wearin' panties."

She just smiled, spinning around in his arms. His hand lingered on her upper thigh, near the juncture where thigh met groin. His grip became increasingly tight, almost painful. "You know no one here is stupid enough to touch me."

"Best make sure they understand." He groaned, pressing into her hip.

"By fucking me against the bar?" She smirked. His response was a throaty chuckle. His eyes said the idea crossed his mind. "Does that mean you'll play along?" Her eyes lit up and she pouted her pink lips.

His response was grabbing her wrist and dragging her to the bathroom. She barely had time to toss back her whiskey before she left the bar. He pushed her into the men's room, slamming the door shut, not bothering to lock it behind him. He shoved her head first into the mirror and didn't bother taking his time, forcing his hands underneath the tight skirt of her dress and working it up her hips so her pussy and ass were exposed. He growled, deep in his throat. She was already dripping wet. "I've been thinking about this all day." She admitted. "I've missed you."

Mac gripped his belt, exaggerating his movements. As he worked it loose, he snapped the worn leather against her bare ass and she arched her back, moaning the most delicious sound in response. "C'ain't get enough o' Mac's cock, huh girl?"

He knew everyone of her triggers by now, able to read her body like brail. Aberdeen liked it fast and she liked it rough. Those happened to be his specialty. She liked it when he talked dirty to her, the nastier the better. Mac wasn't one for talking, but this, he could make an exception for.

He watched in the mirror as she tugged her ample breast from the top of the dress, twisting her nipples accordingly. They ached and hardened beneath her touch as she watched him undo his pants from the mirror, unsheathing his pulsing cock. The head nudged against her bare ass and she pressed back. He growled and grabbed her hips, bending her over the sink basin.

"It's been a few days. I missed your giant cock." She said, matter of factly.

"That's so?" He sounded amused. She caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror before their eyes locked and his entire face changed, becoming stoic and harsh.

"I was beginning to think you got bored with me." She said quietly.

"It look like I'm bored with ye?" His hand came down hard against her ass cheek. Despite the few days time since their last _encounter,_ the lush cheek was still sore.

"Fuck." She moaned out.

Mac snaked his hand around her hip, using two fingers to pry her pussy lips apart. His large fingers barely nudged the barbell in her hood, but it was enough of a sensation to make her knees shake. His other hand gripped her hip and thrust her back onto him in one fluid motion. "Jesus!"

"Fuck, girl." He stilled, trying to gain composure. "Sucha tight fuckin' whore."

"Your fuckin' whore." She replied, cocking one leg over the sink in anticipation. She looked at him over that shoulder, her leg on the porcelain basin giving her more leverage.

It wasn't lost to Mac that he had completely possessed this woman. Not only that, but she was willingly his. She had given herself over to him whole heartedly, even though she knew exactly what he was capable of. If he was a caring man, this would have meant something to him.

"God damn right." He quickly reprimanded her with a hand forcing her chin forward. "Eyes ta the front." He pulled himself free, nudging his dick through her wet folds, groaning deeply when the head of his cock brushed against her clit piercing. He slid back up to her pulsing core and dove back in, full force, shoving her face into the mirror. His free hand clamped on the barbell and tugged and she watched herself moan for him. There was no doubt she was his.

She moved her hips with his as they joined, one hand bracing on the mirror, the other twisting her nipples and reveling in Mac's touch. This is what she needed. She had always been a glutton for punishment. She knew there were regrets she had, things she should never had done. Mac was her executioner. She had no doubt in her mind that she and Mac were made for each other.

His balls slapped against her wet lips in time with his trusts, slapping her clit and causing her to cry out. They were both close without even having to try, the sexual tension and excruciating wait bringing them to the brink well before their usual pace. "Ye gonna fuckin' come. Nasty fuckin' cunt." He ground into her hard, drumming against her cervix. "Watch yer face. Watch while I'm fuckin' ye." His hand left her folds, much to her distress, and wrapped around her neck, cutting off her breathing as he pulled her flush against her chest. The change in angle had her dangerously close. She thought he had moved her to lock their lips in a burning, passionate kiss, but his mouth met the juncture of her neck and shoulder and bit down, painfully hard, bringing on her orgasm abruptly. She watched her face contort. Her body shook and she pulled away, ripping skin. She could smell the copper scent of blood, saw the blood dripping down her collar bone. She knew the bite was bad but couldn't bring herself to care. Mac pumped himself through her pulsing core a few more times before spewing his load in her with a loud, guttural grunt.

She leaned into the sink basin, digging her palms into the porcelain as Mac pulled out. "Git 'nuff, girl?"

"For now." She purred, contentedly.

"Good. Git yer ass home. I wont make ye wait so long fer I fuck ye silly."

She let her leg down and slid off the sink. She turned around as he fixed his jeans. She pulled her dress back up to cover her ample tits and shifted her thighs, awkwardly so since they were still wet. "That a promise, baby?" She smirked.

His hands clamped on her face, pulling her lips to his in a bruising, possessive kiss. He let go all too quickly and she fixed her skirt as he opened the bathroom door. She arranged her hair to cover her bleeding neck but he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her long waves over to reveal his bite mark. "Let people know yer mine." He growled. She nodded and stepped out in front of him. As soon as they were in view of the bar room, he smacked her ass, hard. His buddies in the corner all cheered, save her cousin, who was watching her cautiously.

She walked through the bar and straight out the door, per Mac's instructions. She almost didn't notice Crystal as she passed her on the porch. "Slut." She sneered, thinking she was being smart.

Aberdeen didn't hesitate, she spun around, her arm braced against the bitches throat. "You forget what happened last time that quick?" Crystal's eyes grew wide in fear and she shuddered, obviously regretting her poor decision. "I'd be glad I'm such a 'slut' if I were you, bitch. My dress is too tight to hide my switch. You're lucky to just get off with a warning." She pushed harder and the tweaking whore's face reddened, lacking oxygen. She let her gag for a minute before she let up and pushed herself back, swishing her ass on the way to the car.


	2. Day 2

**I finished this shortly after the first part and decided I'll just post chapters as they are finished. I wanted to rush delivery so we can go ahead and get into the movie. The next part probably wont be until sometime next week, so enjoy! **

**Alva Starr and I were talking and I recall her mentioning that Mac has a stylistic way of having sex, even going as far as to say most Mac smut is the same. It dawned on me how true that really is. I took it as a personal challenge to write something a bit more original. Hope that's okay! Credit for the idea in this chapter once again goes to Annabeth's tumblr which is stocked full of graphic sex ideas that leave me panting! **

**Please leave reviews and alerts 'cause I'm selfish and needy.**

**Typical Mac warnings apply. This chapter contains graphic, BDSM sex, foul language, and general Mac-Ness for your viewing pleasure. ;) Consider yourself warned.**

* * *

**Mutual Violent Control:** this kind of violence may be what is thought of as mutual combat. It can be two parties using violence to control each other in a specific setting, or be more like two people attempting a kind of intimate terrorism with each other.

* * *

The first time Aberdeen went to Mac's house, she thought it was a joke. She quickly realized his humble abode was minimally furnished and absent of cleanliness because Mac neither ate nor slept. It was simply a place he stored his clothes and came to think. His thoughts were possessed. When he dreamt, he had fitful sleeps, waking up at all hours of the night to doodle disturbing drawings of spiders. Always spiders. That same day, she demanded a house of her own.

The double wide was ordered from Albuquerque and had come custom furnished. They planted the trailer on Stan's land, just behind his house on the main road. Mac would do anything to make her stay.

When her cousin had agreed to lend her his land for her homestead, he hadn't exactly thought out how awkward it would be between him and his boss. It took a lot of restraint on his behalf.

The first thing Aberdeen did when she got home that night was put her hooker heels in her closet room. The second thing Aberdeen did was walk into her bathroom to pour alcohol on her newly established wound. The antiseptic should have burnt her delicate flesh, but instead it reminded Aberdeen that she was Mac's. He cared about her in some sick fashion. The excruciating sting was just another reminder just how much.

She dabbed off the dried blood carefully, foregoing covering the teeth marks in order to be able to relish in them a while longer.

She tied her hair up and removed her heavy makeup before unzipping that silly dress and hanging it up. She walked, completely naked, to the bedroom and rummaged through her dresser to find her shirt - Mac's shirt. She pulled on his over-sized black shirt and then found a pair of lacey cheeky panties to sleep in. She didn't want to shower, she would sleep more soundly smelling of sex and Mac.

* * *

She didn't open her eyes when there was a shift on the bed. Thighs pinned her dainty hips down to the mattress and she smirked in her "sleep". Her mouth was pried open and satin was stuffed in. Realization struck her and she jerked up, his hands pressed hard on her shoulders. She may not have been able to move, but she certainly could spit the fabric out. On her stomach lay the saliva soaked turquoise thong from the cave. Both sets of bright blue eyes met in the dark of her bedroom in a death match. "You sick fuck! Who the fuck - ?"

He braced his hand over her mouth, silencing her. "Ain't gonna stay an' play nice if yer gonna bitch." He warned. "Ye went snoopin', huh?"

She bit his hand, knowing it wouldn't hurt him. He gave her another weary stare before pulling his hand back. "Who is she?"

"No one special."

She believed him. "She dead?" He chuckled. She knew the answer. "Better fucking be." She muttered.

She was familiar with his usual routine. He'd find an unsuspecting college girl, take her out to the canyons, and torture her. Sometimes sex was apart of that, but it was mostly about the thrill of the kill. She was just glad it was never her.

"Jealous?" He growled with a smirk.

"Not really. I was busy while you were away. Week's a long time, Mac." She smirked triumphantly until he back handed her, sending her back down into her pillows.

"Y'ain't so smart, bitch." She wasn't surprised by the blow, welcoming it. "Ye want me ta fuck ye good, girl? Do that thing ye like? 'R ye want me ta leave?"

"I want you to fuck me into the mattress, daddy." She used her most innocent voice, reveling in the look he gave her when she pin pointes his daddy issues.

He growled, deep and feral. He gave her a menacing look and offered to put the panties back in her mouth. "Be a good little girl. Keep these in yer priddy little mouth."

She willingly accepted, trying to will away the dampened taste of another woman. He leaned into her with his full weight, pressing her down into the bed. She bucked her hips playfully and felt his erection against her taught stomach.

He kissed her mouth over the underwear, rewarding her for her acceptance, not only of the panties, but his lifestyle. He kissed her throat, working his way down to her shoulder. He lifted her shirt, throwing it to the floor once it was over her head. He settled back into her, kissing the bite mark, a perfect, bloody indentation of his teeth. She winced at the feel of his chemical laced lips against her alabaster complexion, now tarnished again by Mac's abuse.

She urged at his belt, unhooking it and egging him on. He groaned into her neck, vibrating against the hollow of her neck. He grabbed her wrists and twisted them, crossing her arms. "Stay." He warned. He pulled back and whipped out his belt, slashing it across her cheek in the process. She moaned at the sting and shifted below him, trying to find relief from the burning between her thighs.

He wrapped the belt around her wrists and tightened it, binding them as well as he could with the worn leather. He pushed her hands over her head. He sat back, admiring his work before settling in on her neck again, kissing down her chest and nipping at her nipples. He watched her face as he swirled his tongue around her pearly nubs.

He held her hips down, thumbing around the diamonds their absent mindedly as he worked his mouth on her perfect tits. He waited until her breathing increased before he was satisfied, taking the hardened pebble between his decaying teeth and tugging.

She moaned around the soaked silk and he continued his decent downwards nibbling and sucking down her stomach, stopping at those dermal anchors he loved so much to tug at them with his tongue, then finally stopping at her quivering core.

He could smell her arousal through those lace panties she insisted on wearing despite the inevitable. He nipped at the crotch, right above her clit and her hips thrust up to his mouth. The eyes of the lace snagged on his rugged teeth and ripped a hole in the crotch. He slipped his tongue in the hole, sliding through her folds and nudging her clit. She jerked beneath him again and he chuckled, slipping his fingers in the quarter sized hole ripping the panties down the line of her crotch.

"Ye lettin' other men touch what's mine?" He said it close to her throbbing core, breathing hot against her sex. She shook her head no. "Ye lyin'?" Another no. "Ye want Mac ta suck ye till ye come in m'mouth?" She moaned, rolling her hips and shaking her head yes. He chuckled and gave her a harsh glare.

Before she could move, he was slipping that skilled tongue into her wet folds. She jerked up again, moaning around the panties, allowing pleasure to take over. He gripped her hips, holding her place. Her hand settled on her thigh with the large cameo scarred into her pale flesh. The other thumbed over her dermal anchor. He chuckled at her reaction, sending surges of vibrating pleasure though her.

He stopped swirling around her swollen clit and slipped his wriggling tongue into her tight little cunt, raking his teeth over her the barbell through her most sensitive spot as he dug inside of her, desperately trying to find that tight, spongey spot inside her walls. It was her favorite move, he had learned. That noise she made sent a pulsing surge to his erect cock. "Still taste so fuckin' sweet." He growled.

He ground his tongue, lapping at the upper wall of her clenching pussy and dug his teeth against the engorged bud at the apex of her thighs, his teeth catching on the piercing and tugging her clit. She made a sweet, pleading moan and her whole body tightened. Her hips jerked upwards and her thighs clenched his cheeks, locking him in place as she came apart. "Mac!" She murmured around the panties. The word was barely distinguishable.

Mac pulled back, standing at the edge of her bed. He pulled off his shirt and made a show of undoing his pants while she rolled on the bed, coming down from her orgasm high. "Ain't no other man ever make ye feel like that, huh?" He laughed darkly. "Mac's the only man that ever make ye come so hard?" She moaned, nodding slowly, exaggerating it for his ego. "Fuckin' right I am." He heard his boots thump on the floor and he kneeled back at the end of her bed. "Want me ta do that thing ye like? Make ye scream real loud?"

She nodded energetically. Truth be told, there weren't many "things" she didn't like when it came to Mac. It wasn't until he pushed her to her side, smacking her ass hard and laying behind her that she knew what "thing" he meant. She moaned in anticipation and lifted her left leg, the highest one that he was laying behind.

He laughed at her anxiousness, grabbing her calf with his large hands and biting at her leg. His hand trailed down her inner calf and he ground himself into her ass, redirecting his cock to nudge her folds, brushing the edge of his dick into her clit piercing and gliding through her wetness. He continued this sweet torment until she protested, a guttural whine the only noise she could manage. He smirked to himself before shifting quickly and thrusting into her hot core.

She squealed and her head rolled back, welcoming the contact. He kept her leg up in the air with one arm, plying her body as he wished. He felt her tremor around him, knowing it wouldn't be long before she erupted for a second time. He hooked his other arm over her hip and began slapping her clit, hard and fast. Her whole body shook and she groaned and allowed herself over to Mac's relentless torment.

"Like that, don't ye?" He growled. "Tight, filthy little cunt." He kept hitting the barbell until she screamed around the satin in her mouth and contracted hard around his cock. He pumped through her tightening, waiting out the waves of her orgasm to find his own release, coming in hot spurts inside of her wet channel with a loud, animalistic grunt. "Fuckin' love that, don't ye?" He laughed to himself, falling beside her on the bed.

She rolled over with some difficulty, laying her head on his bare chest. She occupied herself with counting the scabs on his neck until he caught his breath and pulled the underwear from her mouth.

"I'll burn these fer ye." He offered. "Know ye hate it."

She smacked her lips a few times, willing the saliva back into it before replying. "Thanks." She held up her bound wrists. "Could you?" He worked at untying her and then threw his belt to the floor.

"Stan told me ye went to the warehouse today." He muttered, reaching in his pants to find his cigarettes. He lit one and took a long draw. "Ye have any problems?"

"No."

"Ye didn't have ta do it. Coulda gone tomorrow."

"It's no problem." She sighed. "I help when I can."

He took another puff, then nodding slowly through the exhale.

"I need the truck tomorrow, though. I have a doctor's appointment." Mac raised a brow at her, silently asking the question. She reached over him to the bottle on the side table, shaking it. It rattled loudly, signaling it was almost empty. She opened it slowly and popped one of the oblong white pills into her mouth.

"When?"

"Noon."

"It'll be back by then." He muttered, stubbing out the cigarette. "Rest." He instructed, standing and gathering his clothes.

"You aren't tired?" She sat up on one arm and watched him. He glared at her, knowing she knew the answer. "Hungry?"

"Not that either. Just go ta fuckin' sleep. Ye need yer rest. I'm gonna wear ye out this week, girl." He growled, causing her to moan.

"I love it when you say romantic things."

* * *

Aberdeen pulled up to the Luna Mesa after nightfall. Her cousin said he and Mac had planned on coming straight from "work." She needed reassurance. She had to see Mac.

She was anxious, not sure what to do. She hated that feeling. She drummed on the steering wheel of her car and pushed the thought of the oxys and valiums in her purse out of her mind. There was a blond boy on the porch smoking that she hadn't recognized. No doubt another college kid coming to scale the rock formations. _One puff_, she told herself. _It had to be better than the pills._

She took a deep breath and dropped her heels on the floor, jumping out of the Suburban to slip on the modest pumps. She gave herself credit, she had dressed much more _conservatively_ this time. She wore her favorite skirt, a tight red bandage skirt covered in sheer black tulle and a loose fitting black band tee.

She knew he was watching as she ascended the stairs to join him on the porch. "Do you mind?" She asked, motioning to the cigarette. His jaw dropped a bit and he nodded, handing her the one in his hand. "Thanks." She smirked. She took one hit, immediately feeling the nicotine high. It had been a few years since she quit. She pushed the thought of another out of her mind as well, watching Harley pull up in the lot. She handed the blond his cigarette back smiled at him, exhaling the smoke from her lungs. "Strickland." She extended her hand to him.

He stared a minute, shaking his head to concentrate, then accepted her grip with his empty hand. "Tom." He smiled warmly to her.

"_Tom_." She repeated. "What brings you out to this area? You rock climb?"

"God no. Friend of mine has some property out here he's looking to sell. Thought it would be fun to tag along."

"Oh yeah?" She processed the information as she hung over the railing, watching Harley curse in his car, hitting the dashboard. He was holding something in his hands that glinted under the security light of the parking lot. "I've lived here a while. Haven't seen anything for sale."

"The guy behind the bar's been interested." He motioned to the Luna.

_Walter._ "Really now?"

"Yeah, you know the Ashton house?"

If she had something in her mouth, she would have spit it out. She knew the Ashton house. She knew the Ashton house well. She also knew who was the owner of said house. Who he was related to. "Oh, yeah." She said coolly, gaining composure. "About time someone did something with that house."

"It's a dump." He chuckled. "You said you live round here?"

"Yeah, about two miles out, actually." Stan's Z71 pulled into the parking lot, followed closely by a junky red pickup. "I need to get inside." She looked apologetically at him. "It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, nice meeting you." He said, obviously caught off guard. She slipped off the porch, hoping Mac didn't see what had just transpired.

She walked up to the bar, waving Walter off when he went to pour her usual shot. She was too busy looking to the table by the window where they sat. She recognized them from the photo. They had another girl with them. This wasn't good.

"Anyone ever tell you it was impolite to stare?" Walter snickered. She replied by flipping him off.

She heard the men stomp up the porch. "Harley! Get your ass over here!" Mac snarled.

Tom followed her back in, finished with his cigarette. He walked right into an Indian boy by the counter, close to the door. He ended up spilling his shot on the floor just beside her. That's when Mac, Stan, and the other guys entered the bar. Aberdeen had no time to react, she just watched as Mac pushed Tom into the counter, spilling a canister of sugar.

"Whoa! Easy partner!" Tom laughed, rebounding quickly. He made a poor choice in words.

"Do I look like yer fuckin' partner? As a matter o' fact, I don't think I fuckin' know you."

Stan stood protectively in front of Aberdeen. Mac was obviously in the first stages of tweaking. The rage and incoherence were clear. Harley slipped in behind them in his civilian clothes, obviously not going to interfere.

"Hey, hey, hey! Mac!" Devon walked over, beer in hand, to calm the man down. "Mac! It's uh, it's been a while. You remember me?" Mac looked at the boy, smirking and appraising him, running a hand through his grungy hair. "That's Tom. He's my cousin."

"Devon Ashton and his cousin, Tommy. Never thought I'd see you again."

"This is Mac. He owns the dog." Devon explained.

"Oh, the animal lover." The brunette girl scoffed.

"Reunion like this calls for a celebration! Let's have some whiskey!"

"Fine with beer." Devon protested.

"Yer gonna have whiskey." Mac growled.

"Deputy." Tom nodded at Harley.

Mac poured two shots of Jack Daniels, not being shy about helping himself to the goods behind the counter. He handed one to Devon. They downed the shots silently and Mac took the glasses, setting them on the counter. He paused, staring at the counter. The crowd that gathered by the door watched as he anxiously drew a spider in the spilled sugar before marring the drawing, smearing the sugar, and turned back to Devon. Aberdeen knew the importance of the drawing and tried to find the connection. "How'd Devon find a nice girl like you?"

"Fraternity boy, sorority girl." The brunette explained, pointing accordingly.

"College, huh? Seems like a big waste of time to me. But yer brave, though. Comin' out here with Regina after what happened."

"I've got to pee." The blonde girl, Aberdeen recognized as Regina muttered, nervously touching her hair and running away.

"I wouldn't be brave like that." Mac continued. "I'd be scared. Heard after your parents little accident, someone gave little sister a ride. Busted her wide open. Isn't that nasty, Devon?" In that moment, Devon struck, obviously done with Mac's taunting. Mac was faster and stronger, pinning the boy to the counter before he knew what hit him. "That's fuckin' sick."

Aberdeen felt like she was a step behind. She had no idea what the brother's were talking about now, but she knew it wasn't going to end well. She pushed into Stan's back, trying to intervene, but her cousin held her back. "No." He said sternly. "They have to work this out."

"Mac!" Walter warned, pulling out his baseball bat and hitting the counter. "You don't want to do that, son." Mac took a step back, obeying with his hands raised defensively.

"Come on." The brunette said.

"Just a precaution." Walter explained, lowering the bat on the counter.

"Let's dance." Mac allowed Devon's girlfriend to walk him out to the empty floor and proceeded to put his hands on her hips. He didn't even realize Aberdeen was in the room anymore.

She wasted no time pushing herself from behind the fortress of Stan's broad body and stomped her way to the end of the bar. She fought the urge to just punch the bitch in the face and glared at Mac. He had his face buried in the bitch's neck, pulling on the loops of her jeans. "Mac!" She hissed. He looked up at her, over the girl's shoulder and smirked. His eyes shot behind her to Devon, who had stomped out the door to the porch. Once Devon left the room, Mac looked back to Aberdeen. He was daring her to do something. "Fucker." She hissed again, more to herself this time. Despite herself, she decided to give him a chance. She curled her finger, telling him to come to her. He shook his head, the smirk never leaving his face. She had no choice.

She crossed the floor and grabbed a handful of dark brown hair. She used little effort, jerking the girl backwards, making a clear path to Mac's face. She swung, but he caught her hand, spinning her around easily and holding her back close to his chest. "That's m'girl." He chuckled into her neck, then lay his chin on the bit mark in her shoulder.

Devon ran back in, snatching his girl friend's arm, despite her shock and probable headache, and drug her out the door.

"You want her?" She asked quietly.

He knew what she meant. _Is she next._ "Just wanted to get under his skin. Sh'ain't special." He nipped at her bite and she winced. It had finally stopped bleeding. "We got shit ta handle here. Ye wanna drink?" He offered.

"No, I shouldn't." She sighed, spinning in his arms. She placed a hand on his chest and looked up into his eyes. This whole afternoon her mind had been swimming. All she wanted to do was talk to Mac. She finally had her opportunity, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. "I think I'll just head on home. Will you come tonight?" She asked hopefully.

"Won't be th'only one." She shuddered at the words. "Go on." He sneered. "Git home."

She leaned up on her toes and he granted her a quick kiss, countering it with an ass grab for his image. She moaned into his mouth, her ass still sore. "Behave." She warned just before she left. She knew it was futile, but she had to try.


	3. Day 3: Part 1

**Thanks to MacsGirls tumblr page who honored me with a reblog. Don't think I didn't notice. It gave me a bit of validation, so thank you. :) **

**Thank you, Annabeth, for helping me solidify all of my ideas ahead of time and making me super happy! **

**I thought I had carefully camouflaged the topic of this chapter in Day 2, but it seems Miss Alva Starr knows me better than I think. ;) Props for being the only person to catch on (or, at least, the only one to mention it). **

**I need reviews to keep going so please, please, please leave a comment or PM me letting me know what you think. There are far too many silent viewers for my liking! **

**TMW (TYPICAL MAC WARNING): This chapter contains crude language, verbal and physical abuse, reference to rape, murder, and mutilation. Viewer discretion is advised.**

* * *

**Mutual Violent Control:** this kind of violence may be what is thought of as mutual combat. It can be two parties using violence to control each other in a specific setting, or be more like two people attempting a kind of intimate terrorism with each other.

* * *

Aberdeen hovered over the toilet with her toothbrush handle digging in the depths of her throat, desperately searching for her gag reflex. She finally felt her stomach lurch and her throat clench and she heaved the contents into the white porcelain bowl.

After taking the pills, she had instantly felt remorse. She dumped the last few pills out of the bottle into the toilet bowl before she made herself regurgitate the valiums and oxy's she had stashed in her purse and popped only minutes before. The bottles were near empty and there were no more refills. She was completely fucked.

_"Well, Miss Strickland. You know the deal. Fill it up to the line and leave it by the door." The nurse smiled, handing her the clear plastic cup with the red lid and leading her to the bathroom._

_She followed instructions, making sure to wash her hands afterwards. The crack down on narcotics was intense, but she did what she had to do. She walked back into the exam room and waited for the doctor to come back. _

_She tapped her foot on the exam table, watching the wall clock's hands tick by slowly for almost 40 minutes before the doctor made an appearance. "Well, Miss Strickland, we got the results back. Everything checks out, but we did find high levels of hCG in your urine." _

_"hCG?" She repeated. _

_"Congratulations, Miss Strickland. It seems you're three weeks pregnant." _

_"I'm sorry?" Aberdeen choked out the words. "What?"_

_"hCG. Pregnancy hormone. The levels show you're just about three weeks along. Your apprehension suggests you weren't trying..."_

_"God no!" She spat. "I can't have a baby!" _

_"I'm not exactly an obstetrician. I can refer you to one, if you'd like. All I can tell you today is that I cannot renew your prescriptions knowing that you are gestational. I can suggest acetaminophen. Acupuncture is a valid substitute for the pain and anxiety medicines. I can also refer you to counselors. I know your past, with your parent's accident... your boyfriend's murder. It's a lot to deal with on your own. The father, will he be up to dealing with all of this? Is he supportive?"_

_"Not exactly." She sighed. "This is too much. I can't deal with this. I can't have a baby. I can't." _

_"Let's sleep on it, okay. You're still early on. I'll have my nurse make you an appointment with a counselor and an OBGYN. We'll go from there. If you do make the decision to terminate, I want you to be well informed."_

* * *

It was nearly 4 am and there was still no sign of Mac. She didn't know whether to be relieved or angry. He had lied. God knows what the fuck he was doing instead of being with her tonight. She was jealous of whatever it was.

She knew it was going to be hard keeping this from him until it was taken care of, but she couldn't turn to him for comfort. She had the distinct feeling he would rip out her uterus with a clothes hanger before he let her have his baby. She may not exactly want it herself, but that was another issue.

She brushed her teeth and chugged a bottle of water before she ran out the door into the dark desert chill with only her keys and her confusion. The drive was a blur, but she pulled up to Mac's house, seeing his truck in the drive. As unusual as that was, she felt a sigh of relief knowing he wasn't out at the cave with someone else.

She jerked to a stop beside the truck and instantly heard loud, feral barking. "Shut the fuck up, Killer!" The dog whimpered and submitted, kneeling on his forearms and crawling to the edge of his pen. The dog didn't listen to anyone but Mac. That knowledge gave her a surge of power.

She ran barefoot to the door, finding it unlocked as usual. Mac didn't have anything worth taking. If he did, no one would stupid enough to try. "Mac!" She yelled into the dark, dank house. The smell of rotting garbage and the chemical smell of bleach and Drano stung her nose. She draped her arm under her sensitive nostrils to keep from heaving again. "Mac! Where the fuck are you!?"

She heard him muttering. It didn't take her long to find him in his room, sitting naked on the floor. He had claw marks down his arms and neck, tracing the contours of his taught chest. He didn't seem to realize she was even there. He was in the throws of a bad trip, drawing angrily: spiders, dozens of haphazard spiders on 8"x12" printer paper strewn across his floor.

Despite her previous inner mantra, Aberdeen couldn't help but feel remorse. She sunk down beside him and tried to get his attention. "Babe." She whispered. "Mac – baby." She placed her hand gingerly on his arm to still his obsessive scratching of black ink on paper. He dropped the pen and his hand clutched tightly around her throat, cutting off her air supply.

Aberdeen's eyes grew wide as she came to terms with the fact that Mac's own clear blue orbs were blank, cold and lifeless. Her own dainty hand clutched around his wrist, nails breaking skin as she fought to breath. "Mac." She managed to choke out the word. "Mac, please. Baby, you're hurting me." She pounded on his arm, trying to pull free. She felt her larynx close off and she could no longer breathe. This was definitely the end for her. She just knew it.

"Shit, girl. Fuck ye doin' walkin' in here like that?" He growled. He released his grip on her tiny neck, pushing her backwards. She fell on the rotting wooden floor, coughing up blood and sputtering to catch her breath. He turned back to his artwork, ignoring her completely.

She kicked herself back in fear, trying to get away. She managed to get splinters in her ass through the sheer cotton panties she had worn over. "Hateful bastard!" She finally was able to sneer. She rubbed her sore throat, willing the pain away. Her voice was muffled and strained. Her hand traveled to hover over the bite on her shoulder. The sting her touch brought reminded her she was his.

She stumbled up and went to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge. The smell was now tolerable. She had accustomed to it already. She rummaged through the trash on the table and found the bottle she had given him last week; half of her valiums to help him sleep. He definitely needed them now. She crushed three pills, based on his tolerance and size, and poured them in the neck of the bottle. She hoped it was enough.

She walked back into the room and placed the bottle in front of him. "Here." She rasped. He stopped drawing and snatched the bottle up, downing it in two long pulls. He threw the bottle and the glass smashed against the wall. "Hey." She chastised. She sauntered to the bed and sat at the edge, patting her lap. "Come over here."

He was already hard when he stood, crossed the room in two long steps to make it to her at the end of the bed. When he stood before her, his impressive erection was in front of her face. Without words, he tangled his hands in her hair and slapped the side of her face, smearing salty pre-come along her cheek. She protested, but he pried her lips open and jerked his hips until he slid into her warm, wet mouth.

He gripped hard on her hair and plunged to the back of her raw, sore throat. Her gag reflex was still heightened from her earlier date with the toilet. She gagged around him, her throat tightening around his ample length and he groaned, leaning back, his hips thrust forward and his hands still wound in her tangled hair. "Fuckin' whore." He growled. "God damn, pretty girl." The words were barely a whisper. She knew he was barely coherent, but the words still lingered in her mind.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pushed at his hips, her nails clawed at his backside but it only seemed to urge him on. She wasn't strong enough. She never was. All she could do was take the abuse and hope for it to be over soon. Her throat was raw, bruised. Her jaw was clenching and she had a sour taste in her mouth as Mac picked up the pace. His balls clenched, slapping against her chin as he fucked her mouth. He slapped her face, hard, thumping his hand against his cock through her cheek. "Fuck!" He pulled hard on her hair as his hips thrust up. His balls tightened and he spewed hot come down her throat.

The grip on her hair loosened and he stumbled backwards. She saw everything happen in slow motion. She jumped off the bed and gave him a firm shove and he fell quickly and quietly, face-first on the bed.

* * *

The pounding and screaming woke her up the next afternoon. She rolled out of bed in time to see Stan unlock her back door and cross her kitchen floor. "It's 4 in the afternoon, why the fuck aren't you awake?" He growled.

"Long night." She rasped, her voice still hoarse from the night before.

Her cousin stood in front of her and lifted her chin, getting a good look at the finger print bruises on her neck. "The fuck happened?"

"I handled it." She groaned. "What do you want?"

"Mac got busted." He sighed. "Pratt and Harley are on the way to the cave. Said they're gonna take him in."

"What happened? Harley can't handle it?"

"No, it was fuckin' Regina. Harley said she went snooping in the cave. Mac… well he-"

"He _what_?" She growled. _God damn, pretty girl._ The mere mention of the girls name had her seeing red.

"You know what, Abby. What the fuck does he always do with them?" He countered. He instantly felt remorse when Aberdeen fell backwards against the door frame and became a sniveling heap on the floor at his feet. "Shit, Abber Dabbers… I didn't mean it like that. I didn't… Aw fuck, just stop crying, alright? He didn't get to. Devon's turban wearin' friend knocked his ass out before he could touch her." He knelt down beside her and put his hand on her knee. "Look, get cleaned up and dressed, okay? We've got to go get this sorted out. Harley pretty much took Reggie's side. Walter's flipping shit about the drugs getting confiscated. I need you."

"Mac can rot in that jail cell for all I care." She sneered. "I'm not going."

"Abby, if Walter doesn't get those drugs back, he's gonna skin us both alive. We can leave Mac, if you want, but we have to get the drugs out of impound."

Aberdeen took a deep breath and pulled herself up. "Fine. But I'm taking my mother fucking time."

That she did. Her shower alone took close to an hour. She insisted on blow drying her hair, fixing her makeup, and dressing in skinny, ripped jeans (that were more rips than jean) and another loose band tee. This one was ripped across her shoulders. She shifted the material to hang over, revealing the shoulder with the scabbed ring of teeth marks. She decided to go ahead and pull on some sensible, flat, knee-high, spiked, leather boots. When she walked back into the kitchen, Stan was having a beer at her table and talking on his phone in a hushed tone. She slipped right past him and opened the refrigerator, looking for something with sustenance.

"Yeah, well we aren't working on your time, Walter. It will be done…. Yes, by tonight… if you have a problem with it, go do it yourself." Stan finally snapped the phone shut and looked up to his cousin. "Took ye fuckin' long enough. Mac's already at the station."

"Good. Deserves to wait. I'm fucking hungry."

"Well, take something to go, Abby. Walter's on my fuckin' ass."

"I don't care." She sneered, displeased with the fridge's contents, she pulled out a bottle of water and turned to a cabinet. "Are you hungry?"

"Are you even a little bit concerned?" He scoffed.

"Not about the same things you are, obviously." She rolled her eyes. _If he only knew_.

"Devon fucked up everything. Why the fuck would he come back here after all that shit?"

"Was what Mac said yesterday all true?" She asked quietly. She pulled out a bag of pretzels and began sampling them.

Stan was still silently contemplating the answer to such a weighted question when she sat down across from him. "It was the first year I moved here." He began. "Mac and his friend, Rick, worked in the cave. Rick… he was a crazy mother fucker. A fucking bad influence. The kids would go out there to party. Mac, Rick, and Harley. I told you about Devon and Reggie coming during the summers?" Aberdeen nodded slowly, remembering their talk at the Ashton house the previous summer. "Well, Regina was dating Harley. He took her out there to score. Wanted to do it in front of all those men. Get her fucked up and prove he was a real man. Well, Rick, sick fuck that he was, wanted to gang rape her." Aberdeen's eyes welled with tears, already anticipating Stan's next words. "He slipped Mac his first hit and they took turns with her. Devon had to watch."

"I think that's enough." She whispered, suddenly feeling very sick.

"No, I need to finish. You wanna know, you need to know the whole story." He insisted. "Regina fought back, finally. Rick, he didn't make it out. Mac blames Regina for it all. The cave set on fire. It all blew. Mac's best friend died. Reggie lost her innocence. Devon had to watch his baby sister…"

Aberdeen jumped up from the table and heaved up the contents of her stomach into the sink. She was silently grateful she had tied her hair up and out of her face.

"I think you deserve to know. I think Devon came back for revenge. I don't know what's gonna come of all this, but it wont be good."

Aberdeen knew what that meant. Mac and Devon were a volatile concoction. Mac was jealous of Devon, there was no doubt about that. Mac might not have feelings for the girl, but he would do anything to ruin Devon. Aberdeen knew that this just wouldn't do. The girl had to go.

* * *

"Well, the drugs will be secure in there." Pratt said as Harley locked the closet. Harley threw the keys on the desk just as the power flickered.

"The damn wind. Ye sure ye don't w-w-want me to stay?" Harley stuttered.

"Naw, I'll be fine with Mac." Pratt said.

"Okay, good night." Harley said.

Harley began to walk towards the door when Mac teased, "Tell yer girl I'll be seein' 'er."

Harley half-hearted jumped at the detained drug addict. "Goodnight, Harley!" Pratt warned. Then the power went off completely. "Damn fuse." Pratt said, grabbing a flashlight. "I'm too old for this shit."

.:=:.

"The fuses are all overloaded. I need to get inside, get the drugs. You distract Harley?" Stan whispered, shutting the power main. The entire office was pitch black inside.

"I'll do you one better." She replied quietly when she saw the knob turn and Harley stepped out of the building.

.:=:.

A strange noise echoed in the dark. "Someone there! Pratt? Harley? I know it's you, ye little shit!" Mac hollered. "Pratt? Harley?" Mac asked, getting more anxious.

Pratt made it to the inner fuse box, flipping the main fuse. The power flickered on. As soon as it returned, the lights overloaded the fuse and switched off. Exasperated, the old man walked back to his office to find Mac's chair empty. The keys on the desk were missing.

Before he knew what had happened, Mac leapt out and stabbed the old sheriff in the eye.

.:=:.

"A-A-Aberdeen." Harley stuttered.

"Hey, Harley."

"W-w-what are you doing here?"

"You know why I'm here, Harley. Can I see him?"

"He's b-b-being detained. He can't have visitors."

"Just a few minutes. Please?"

"W-w-why do you put up with it? You heard what he did to R-R-Reggie?"

Aberdeen growled in the back of her throat, trying to control her obvious rage. "You should go check on Reggie, Harley. It's not safe for her, here."

"Devon shouldn't have brought her back." He almost whispered.

"You're right. But how can we fix that, Harley?"

"W-w-what do you mean?"

"Devon is a bad man. Almost as bad as Mac, don't you think?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Reggie isn't safe with him, Harley. He's putting her in danger. Just like in the cave. She can't stay here."

"I have to take her away." His face gleamed with realization.

"Exactly, Harley. Hurry! Go get Regina and take her away. Far, far away!"

She watched in delight as the tiny officer ran to his squad car and took off into the night. She saw the red lights fade into the darkness. The door swung open behind her and she turned in time to see the two men stumble out carrying a very dead Sheriff Pratt.


	4. Day 3: Part 2

**Sorry I've been MIA. No excuses, just updates. I missed you guys. Today was kind of the perfect excuse to stay bundled up and get some writing done. It's been raining for about 5 hours straight and its 40 degrees, here. **

**I had to re-watch the movie about 5 times so far to get this right. (Didn't say I was complaining.) Balancing between keeping the story straight and not being repetitive is turning out to be a bitch. Interpreting what happened is even worse. Everything at the end is basically what I think happened behind the scenes.**

**Wordsonpage:** Aberdeen is one of my personal favorites as well. I'm glad I have a few surprises left. ;)

**Mary:** I'm glad you like. Cliffhangers and shock value are my favorite part of writing, especially with Mac.

**Hope you guys enjoy! Please review!**

* * *

**TMW (TYPICAL MAC WARNING): This chapter contains crude language, verbal and physical abuse, murder, and mutilation. Viewer discretion is advised. **

* * *

**Mutual Violent Control:** this kind of violence may be what is thought of as mutual combat. It can be two parties using violence to control each other in a specific setting, or be more like two people attempting a kind of intimate terrorism with each other.

* * *

"What the fuck, Stan?!" Aberdeen spat as she watched the men toss the deceased cop carcass onto the bed of Stan's truck.

"Shut it, Abby. He was already fuckin' loose."

"What's a matter, sweetheart? Don't look too happy to see me." Mac sneered, giving her his typical chemical smile.

She screamed, loud and shrill, and jumped at him. He caught her easily in his strong arms as she continued to kick and punch at him. "Lying fucking bastard! You're a sick fuck!" He merely chuckled at her fowled attempts.

Stan grabbed her arms and took her from Mac. "Hey! Hey!" He yelled, grabbing her attention. "You have to stop. Look, we have to repack all that shit and take Mac back to get his truck. You wanna go with us? Or sit here, alone, at the station for an hour?"

She fought to catch her breath and mulled it over. Staying alone in the desert with the coyotes or being stuck between Stan and her cheating, murdering, drug addict boyfriend... She was torn. "I'll go with you." She finally muttered.

"That's m'girl." Mac snickered, placing a firm hand on her bare shoulder. The sting of the scars there was dulling.

Aberdeen snapped around and smacked his hand. "Don't you dare fucking touch me!" She warned.

The back of Mac's hand connected with her cheek with such force that she flew back into the door of Stan's Z71. "I'll put my hands on ye when I damn well please! Ye belong ta me, bitch. Don't ferget it!"

"Mac!" Stan warned, jumping between the two. "That's enough, man!"

"The hell ye think yer doin'?" Mac growled, getting in his partner's face.

"We have to get the stuff and go." Stan rebounded quickly.

Mac's eyes gleamed at her. "Git yer ass in the car, girl."

She swirled around, still holding her cheek, and sat in the backseat of the cabin. She watched through teary eyes as Mac and Stan carried box after box of bundles full of marijuana and meth out of the sheriff's station.

* * *

They pulled up to the cave and Mac jumped out. He slammed the truck door in Aberdeen's face and started stomping his way to his own truck. "Ye follow me out there with the body. We gon' git rid o' these kids once an' fer all." He growled.

Stan nodded once as Aberdeen climbed over the partition and into the passenger's seat. Mac's truck took off into the night and Stan pulled out close behind.

"Take me home, Stan." Aberdeen said, firmly.

"Abby, I can't right now."

"Stan, take me home." Her voice rose and cracked as she spoke.

"Abby, don't you want Devon and his whore out of here? To get rid of Regina?"

"Don't!" She gasped. "Don't you fucking say her name to me!"

"Stop being so melodramatic, Abby! You heard Mac: we're getting rid of the problem. Those kids won't make it through the night." He snickered. He followed Mac's tail lights into the desert, towards the highway. The truck's passed Mac's house on the left. The night was eerily quiet, unlike her mind, which was in overdrive at that moment.

The Ashton house was just a mile or so past Mac's. Mac cut his headlights in front of them and Stan followed suit. The red old beater in front of them pulled to a stop in the brush on the right side of the road and Stan parked behind him. The house was in the distance, the van parked right out front.

The three exited their respective vehicles and Mac was the first to speak. "Grab 'is feet." Stan dropped the tailgate and grabbed the old Sheriff's feet, dragging him off the bed of the truck. Mac caught his shoulders before he dropped to the floor.

"What the fuck are we doing?" Aberdeen complained, staying out of their way.

"We're gonna spook 'em out." Mac smirked. "Grab that bag from my truck and head out."

Aberdeen took a deep breath, centering herself. _We're getting rid of them_, she reminded herself. _It's almost over._ She grabbed the bag in Mac's truck bed and followed the dirt road up to the hill. She spotted the cop cruiser parked at the top of the hill.

"Fuck's Harley doin' 'ere? Little shit!" Mac muttered. He and Stan were struggling to carry this massive corpse uphill. "'E in that car?"

Aberdeen ran up ahead another yard. She saw his tan uniform on the porch of the house, peeping in the windows.

"Distract 'im. Got an idea."

The girl ran on ahead, dropping Mac's bag at the back of the car and walking up to the porch of the Ashton house. Harley spun around to face her as the boards creaked under her feet. "What the – "

She didn't give him time to wake the kids up. She knocked him out with one punch. She looked in the window to see what had Harley so upset. She saw Regina, curled up on the couch with the Indian boy. "Little slut." She snickered.

"Shit, Abby. Ye have to knock him out?" Stan muttered, causing her to jump, as he came up behind her.

"Got too loud." She shrugged. "Where's Mac?"

"Getting Pratt situated. Help me. Grab his feet." He nodded to the unconscious deputy on the porch.

She hooked her arms under his feet and helped her cousin carry him out to the awaiting squad car. Mac had the driver's door opened for them when they arrived back at the car. "They gotta come out sooner 'r later. I'mma wait here with our friends. You know what to do." He directed his words to Stan.

"Come on. Ye'll help me." Stan told Aberdeen. She nodded, grateful that she didn't have to make that decision for herself. At this moment, she wouldn't have chosen Mac.

Stan led his cousin to the brush near the porch and cleared a small path for them to nestle into. "Shit's gonna come to a head tonight." Stan whispered. "I wanna make sure you're ready for whatever happens tonight."

"What are you even talking about?"

"Nothing, alright." He hissed. "Just know, I'm gonna make sure you're safe."

His tone scared her into silence. She nodded quietly when she heard the side door open. Reggie walked out into the cold night air. She watched the girl creep into the brush across from them and crouch in the tall grass. She remembered the toilet in the Ashton place had been broken since before she moved to Cainville.

Seconds ticked by in silence before the two noticed the squad cars lights shut on. The young girl started hyperventilating and broke out in a run for the front door. The lights on the shut off and they could hear the door open and slam shut before the five kids came running out in their sleep clothes towards the car.

"Showtime." Stan smirked. "Disconnect the battery and pull the starter wire. I'm gonna run around back and cut the power and phones."

She ran to the van and opened the driver's door, popping the truck. She closed the door as quietly as possible and went to work under the hood. The battery was easy to disable, but the wire to the starter was wedged father underneath the engine itself. She leaned as far as she could and tried to feel around for the wire. She heard the kids shouting in the distance, then the tell tale scream as they discovered, what she assumed to be, a dead body. She reached what she hoped to be the correct wire when she head a loud gun shot; a shot gun. The blast was followed by more screams. _"Ye shot me! Fuck!"_

She yanked the wire hard and slammed the hood of the van, running back to the fuse box to find Stan. "Ye get it?"

"I think so. Can't exactly check." She snapped. "Did Mac shoot one of them?"

"He isn't gonna shoot them. Not his style."

The front door slammed shut and they heard yelling from the front yard. Aberdeen imagined exactly what was happening on the opposite side of the house. The engine didn't roar to life. _"What's wrong?" _It sounded like Devon.

"_Dammit!" _Another male voice hissed.

"_What are you doin'?" _

"_Put that shit away man. I see the problem."_

"Did good, Abs." Stan smirked. "Ye gotta make it to the truck before they try and run for it." He handed her a set of keys. "Get my truck, and head to the Luna Mesa. Mac's coming back for me. We'll get you when it's safe."

"Alright." She nodded nervously. She tried to make sense of his instructions as she fisted his keys. She took off in a sprint, running the quarter of a mile to the waiting truck. Mac's truck was no longer there. She jumped in and started the truck, reversing through the field. Then there was another gun shot. She slammed on the brakes and stared into the dark silence that loomed around the Ashton house. Her gut instinct told her she couldn't stay to find out what happened. She had to go. She spun around and tore down the road and back towards town.

Anxiety. All Aberdeen could comprehend was overwhelming anxiety. All of a sudden, she seemed to realize what her life had become. She was stuck in the middle of the desert. Trapped. She was helping con and kill five kids she had never met. She was on her way out to the only oasis in the middle of this hell hole she had been living in for the past year with the man who probably would never actually love her. The man who fathered the mistake in her womb. To summarize: she was fucked.

She screamed and slammed her hands on the steering wheel, only managing to let out a miniscule amount of frustration. She had to get out of here, but she decided to stop at Mac's first.

She pulled in the yard, rounding the side of the house. The first thing she noticed was that Killer wasn't snapping at Stan's truck from the pen. She popped the glove compartment and took Stan's flashlight, cutting it on in the dark of the cabin. She left the truck and walked into the yard so she could shine the beam towards the cage. The pen was completely empty.

She took the steps in one stride, crossing the porch and running in the house. She wished Mac had shown her how to cut on the generator as soon as she ran in the dark house. She scoured the kitchen table upon entry, looking for that little orange bottle she had left there the night before. The back of her hand hit the bottle and it tipped. The cap fell on the rotting floor, followed closely behind by the remainder of the Diazepam she had been crazing all night. "God damn it!" She hissed, dropping to her knees and looking for the fallen round, blue pills.

She spotted one in the beam of light. It was wedged under the grate at the bottom of the refrigerator. She gagged at the idea of eating anything that touched Mac's floor, but quickly got over the notion when she remembered her situation. She scooped up the medication and popped it in her mouth with no reprieve. She found another in a dust ball under the leg of a chair and picked at it, deeming it clean enough before it followed the other on its way to her stomach. Soon the valium would be coursing through her blood, all problems forgotten.

She was startled from her thoughts when she heard voices from the back door. She stumbled to her feet and peered out the window, cutting off her flashlight. Devon and Regina. "Fucking perfect." She growled. She wasted no time. She ran through the house, making her way to Mac's bedroom. His rear window faced the spot she had parked Stan's truck. She couldn't risk being caught.

She heard them enter the house and pushed the window open. Her leg was over the ledge when she was gratified with the low rumble of Mac's truck. She saw the flood lights of the truck gleaming off the barren ground. _Fuckers won't know what hit them. _She dropped to the ground below and the generator purred to life. _This is gonna be good. _

She paused, back against the wall, ears awaiting the action she knew was looming just behind her. She waited.

Silence. Eerie, nerve wracking silence.

Devon's voice broke the silence after what felt like minutes. _"She's mine now."_

"_See how this plays out after I clean up yer mess, little brother." _

"_We will." _Devon retorted._ "You got Harley, right?" _

"_Fixed 'im up good. Took care o' the Arab and the bikes, too." _

There was a moment of silence before Devon blurted,_ "Your little errand boy got in my fucking way. Dad said you were gonna control him." _

"_Ye take 'im out?" _

"_Did what I had to do. You get rid of your little whore yet?" _

"_Least I can control mine." _Mac snickered._ "She's none o' yer concern. Ol' man said she kin stay." _

"_Yeah, well you don't keep her locked up and you won't have to worry about it anymore." _

"_That a threat?" _

"_You know I know better than to threaten you, Mac. Just… I'm gonna keep Reggie here, alright? Get back to mom's place and you help me take care of the rest of them. Just like we talked about."_

"_Yeah. Stupid stunt you pulled, bringin' all o' them out here like this."_

"_Just fucking follow me there, alright!?" _Devon screamed.

"_Alright, golden boy. Just like we talked about." _


	5. Day 4: Part 1

**Honestly, I should ****have been working on other things since this is the only story that I seem to be able to update regularly, but here I am, updating again. **

**I'm going to be completely honest when I say that not one part of this story was what I had written in my notes, it just happened. I didn't plan on ending where I did either, but the magnitude of that last line really got me. I don't know how, but I really like where it went. I hope you guys feel the same!**

**This one's for Annabeth who likes Harley (or, at least, the way I write him) and wanted more of him. **

**I need reviews to keep going so please, please, please leave a comment or PM me letting me know what you think. The next chapter is going to be **_**so **_**hard for me to write and there are far too many silent viewers for my liking! **

**TMW (TYPICAL MAC WARNING): This chapter contains crude language, verbal and physical abuse, murder, and mutilation. Viewer discretion is advised.**

* * *

**Mutual Violent Control:** this kind of violence may be what is thought of as mutual combat. It can be two parties using violence to control each other in a specific setting, or be more like two people attempting a kind of intimate terrorism with each other.

* * *

Aberdeen slid down the wall until her ass hit the gravel. Her arms wrapped around her knees and she hung her head. She willed herself not to cry, silently hoping they managed to miss Stan's truck as they left together.

Stan was dead. Devon was out to kill her. Mac didn't care. Aberdeen was completely and utterly alone. That is, except for the small, peanut-size fetus growing in her as she hyperventilated.

By this time, the valium was coursing its way through her blood stream. She heard Mac's truck roar to life again and held her breath as he backed out to the road. If he saw Stan's Z71 there would be no way out for her. The flood light changed direction and pointed toward the Ashton house. Aberdeen let out a heavy sigh of relief. He didn't know she was there.

An overwhelming calm washed over Aberdeen in that moment. The realization struck her like a ton of bricks; she could leave. Lord knows how long she had, but she bet the brothers would be busy long enough for her to make it to her trailer and snatch up some of her belongings, as well as her own car, before they realized she wasn't at the Luna Mesa.

Slowly, determinedly, she pulled herself out of the dirt. There was something she needed to do first.

She snuck around the side of the house and back up the porch. As usual, the door was left unlocked. Aberdeen knew Regina had to be near Mac's bedroom, so she didn't waste anytime in going that way. She saw Regina's foot before she entered the room. The girl was slumped in Mac's closet. She seemed to have passed out.

Aberdeen's first idea was to go ahead and kill the girl. She wasn't opposed to the idea. It would not be the first time she had murdered someone. She contemplated running to the kitchen and grabbing a kitchen knife and slitting the girl's throat or maybe grabbing the bat beside Mac's bedroom door frame and bludgeoning her to death. Her palm twitched at the idea of stealing Devon's sister from him, taking away Mac's new obsession. She felt empowered, but as she stared down at the young girl, she couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She noticed the track marks on the girls right arm where her jacket had bunched in the bend of her elbow. She didn't look like smack addict. She looked like an innocent little girl. She was frail and fragile and breakable. Someone had been drugging her. She shook the notion from her head just before she spotted the faint scar on her neck. Teeth marks, the shape of a perfect ring graced the left side of her dainty, pale neck. Instinctively, she placed a hand over her own, fresher, mark that happened to be eerily similar. Angrily, she stomped out of the room before she could change her mind.

She half-ran to Stan's truck and climbed in the cabin, locking the doors as an unnecessary precaution. She kept the lights off to back out of the drive and then pulled onto the dirt road, heading back towards the highway. She hadn't made it a mile before she passed a lone horse rider. She slowed for him to pass and caught a glimpse of his profile out of the corner of her eye. _Walter_. He nodded at her, tilting his hat, but his expression was blank.

"Shit!" She hissed. She pressed the accelerator slowly and hoped being on horseback would slow him down enough for her to make it out of Cainville. Maybe she was the lowest item on his to-do list.

When he was out of view in her rearview mirror, she floored the gas, fish tailing and spitting up dust in her wake. The truck corrected quickly and she sped her way to her trailer.

She leapt the stairs in twos once she managed to park the truck in her drive. She realized at the door she didn't have her own keys. Stan's key ring was massive. It took at least five precious minutes to locate his spare key. She ran straight to her closet and crammed her most sensible clothes into a bag. Logically, she wouldn't need much. She could always get more. When the bag was full, he ran to her bathroom to grab a few toiletries and her makeup case. That in hand, she decided she was prepared. She ran out the door, grabbing her keys off the counter, and threw her bags in the Suburban. She crossed the lot and ran up to Stan's back door. She opened the door with trembling hands and trudged her way to his room. He kept his safe under his bed. She knew it was there, she only hoped she would find what she needed. She sunk to her knees in the shag carpet and easily found what she had come for.

If only she knew the combination.

She tried logical things, like his birthday and her birthday. She even tried his mother's. Nothing worked. She fell back in frustration. Just as she was about to give up, she spotted a picture on his bedside table. It was of Stan and Aberdeen on the front porch with his parents, only they were all much younger. It was their first Christmas after she was orphaned. His parents graciously allowed her to moved in. They all wore matching red sweaters and were surrounded by gold ribbon and holly. _The accident_. She frantically twisted the dial and her heart nearly burst in excitement when the latch clicked. She popped the safe and was ecstatic to find stacks of hundred dollar bills, at least $20,000 worth. Underneath the bills lay a .45.

She grabbed the box and carted it to the Suburban with her. Her breathing slowed as she entered the vehicle. She could finally relax. _Good ol' Stan_. Even in death he was still looking out for her. Aberdeen then realized that she couldn't leave him like this.

She had come to terms with her death long ago. She knew entering Cainville that she may never make it out alive. She was willing to risk all of that to say goodbye to her cousin.

She left the safe sitting under her car seat as she walked up to Stan's passenger door and popped his glove compartment. She grabbed the flashlight and shoved it in her back pocket. It was snug, but it fit. His half-full pack of full flavor Parliaments lay beside his owner's manual. His lighter was tucked inside. She grabbed the manual and lit the corner, watching in delight as it burned before her eyes. Aberdeen pocketed the lighter and tossed the flaming book into the cabin of the truck and walked away.

She welcomed the sudden calmness she was bestowed when she cranked up the SUV and left, all of her belongings burned behind her Stan's. It didn't phase her that Walter's drugs were still in the bed of that truck as she left.

She wasn't going without a fight.

* * *

When Aberdeen came upon the Ashton house, it was deserted. She found the van abandoned in the front with its disconnected battery and starter.

The front window was broken. Aberdeen was afraid what she would find inside. She walked around the house to the back where she last saw Stan. Nothing. No sign of struggle, no blood. Nothing.

She walked the perimeter, looking for her cousin. The gate to the shed was wide open. There were dirt bikes inside with flattened tires and missing parts. She heard a slight moan from the building. She felt a slight glimmer of hope as she slowly entered the garage. The groan became a waling and she noticed the body chained up to the ceiling with the tan and brown uniform on. "Harley?"

"Help..." was all he could muster.

Disheartened, Aberdeen ran up to the deputy and unwrapped the end of the chain from his leg. She had to stand on her tiptoes, but she got the chain at the accurate level for her to unwind the chain. She tried to lower the man slowly but ended up losing her grip and dropping the injured man flat on his back. "Fuck!" He gasped.

"Shit! Sorry, Harley." She dropped down and tried to unwrap the rest of the chain from his body. He was bleeding profusely from a spot on his head, but other than that relatively unharmed.

"Reggie? Where's Reggie?" He jumped up excited. He fell back on his arms in a dizzy fit.

"Last I knew she was at Mac's." Aberdeen replied quietly. She was almost remorseful that she left her behind in the closet.

"At Mac's?" He gasped. "You just left her there?"

"I don't owe her shit, Harley. If you want to go get her, you can." Aberdeen sighed. "They killed Stan."

"I'm s-sorry." He grunted, trying to stand. "I have to get to Reggie before Devon."

She nodded. "Are you up for that?" She asked, skeptically.

"I'll manage." He groaned as he got to his feet.

"Good luck."

"Thanks, Strickland..."

"Don't mention it." She smirked, walking out of the shed. She circled the building, scouring the ground. She spotted a body shaped lump in the grass and her heart stopped. She crept closer and sank to her knees by what used to be Stan's head, only his entire head was blown to pieces.

"Oh, God... Stanley." She whimpered, placing a hand on his limp shoulder. "What did they do to you?" She sat there in silence for an eternity, crying silent tears and wishing she wasn't so alone. "I'm gonna get out of here." She finally decided aloud. "Just like you wanted." She promised.

She stumbled to her feet and started trekking back towards the shed. There, she found empty gas canisters on the ground near the bikes along with a few shop rags. She stuffed the rag in the end of the canister and pulled the lighter from her pocket, torching the end. She created her own version of a Molotov cocktail. Calmly, she walked out of the shed and back to her Suburban, backing the car down the driveway far enough to be safe. She wanted to watch the Ashton house burn.

She was so enthralled by the dancing flames as the engulfed the building, she didn't notice Deputy Morgan pull up behind her in his squad car. There was a loud explosion as one of the dirt bikes blasted to pieces, sending flaming bits toward the Ashton house and sparking a fire on the porch.

"She's not there." Harley said, startling her.

She rolled down the window to address him. "She's gone?"

"She wasn't at M-M-Mac's." He yelled. "Where would she go?"

"They're in the desert."

"How do you –?"

"This was Mac's master plan. He was going to drive them out. They aren't in the house, the van isn't functioning, and the dirt bikes are all dismantled. Where else would they go?"

"Area this large… they could be anywhere."

"Yeah, and I'll bet Mac is hot on their tails."

"Help me find her!" Harley urged.

"I'm not staying, Harley. I can't help you."

"What? With Mac and Devon still out there? You think they'll ever let you leave? Mac's gonna notice. He's gonna hunt you down, Aberdeen. You won't get far. Help me end this!"

The words swirled in her head. He was right. She was Mac's. She was always Mac's. If she left here with him alive out there, she would always be looking over her shoulder, waiting for him to track her down and take her back. She couldn't leave without him being dead.

"I know where they would go." She muttered. "The plateau between the canyons… It leads straight to the Mesa."

"Devon would run straight home to daddy." Harley agreed.

"They had planned this out." She nodded. "Go back to Mac's. Follow the pass through the canyons. I'll go to the plateau. We'll meet in the middle. We'll find him."

"And then what?"

"You know what we have to do." She said coldly.

Harley nodded slowly and walked back to his car, backing out and heading to Mac's.

Aberdeen watched for a few more moments as the Ashton house was swallowed by hot, red flames before she pulled forward and entered the desert.

* * *

She hadn't ridden far before she noticed the low simmer of embers in the distance. She slowed down to get a better look. It was definitely a low lying fire.

She cut the engine and stepped out, fisting the gun and tucking it in the waist of her jeans. She grabbed the flashlight from the passenger seat as well. Her breathing was shallow and calm. Tiredness was washing over her. She tried to will the feeling away as she walked closer to the dying fire. She flicked on the beam of light in her hand and shone it at the fire. What she saw caused her to take a few large steps back. Tom; neck slit and stomach gutted. His entrails were now on the outside, sprayed out in a sunburst pattern.

Her back collided with something hard and sturdy and she dropped her flashlight. When the bloody hand wrapped around her neck and the husky voice chuckled low in her ear, she registered who it was behind her. "Mac."

"Fancy seein' you here, sweetheart."

She spun against him and he gripped her cheeks, hard, holding her steady for his lips to own hers, demolishing her resolve. Her stomach was flush with his as he slipped his sour tongue in her mouth. Suddenly, his hand left her face and shifted her top, grasping the handle of the gun in her jeans and ripping it out. The back of that hand snapped against her cheek as he pulled away. "The fuck is this?" He growled. "Ye tryin' ta kill me?"

"No! Jesus Christ! It's just a fucking precaution, Mac!" Aberdeen retorted, holding her cheek. "You forget whose been helping you all fucking night?" He began scratching his arms and neck, anxiously. She knew he was in the throes of another fit. She had to be cautious about her next step. She rubbed her cheek one last time and walked back to him, reaching for the arm with the gun. "Hey, come here." She said, quietly. She wrapped her other arm lazily around his neck and tugged him down to her level until their lips brushed. She took the hand with the gun and wrapped it around her waist, placing his hand on her ass. It only took one kiss for him to drop his grip on the gun and for it to fall to the Utah desert floor. She kicked the gun towards her Suburban, never breaking the heated kiss.

His tongue dominated hers and it wasn't long until they were both panting. "Want ye ta see this." He husked, finally pulling away. He tugged her arm and pulled her towards the fire pit, now only a few lit embers in a dark circular formation. He maneuvered her until her boots tipped Tommy's sneaker. His stomach lay flat against her back as his erection ground into her back. His sticky, strong hand clamped on her chin and forced her gaze forward. "Saw ye at the Mesa the other night. He had eyes fer ye." He explained.

Aberdeen realized that he murdered this boy out of necessity. He was one more piece in this intricate puzzle that Walter, Mac, and Devon had devised to alienate Regina. Mac mutilated his body, however, to pay homage to her. Proof that he was still the jealous freak she somehow loved. Despite everything, she was touched. "Thank you." She whispered.

He placed a kiss behind her ear, trailing them down her neck and landing on her bare shoulder in the center of her scabbing bite mark. The sting of her sore flesh reminded her of another mark forever embedded in someone else's flesh. "Where's she?" She asked, turning to face him. "Where are the rest of them?"

"Golden boy and the sorority girl ran off to the canyon. Caught the Arab on one o' the bikes."

She bit her lip, thinking about her next question. "What about Regina?"

"Reggie was with this one until I found 'em." He admitted.

"She ran away?"

"Yeah." He slipped his hands on her hips and pulled her forward into him, gripping her ass roughly.

"And you didn't follow her?"

"Ain't fun without golden boy 'ere." He smirked.

Between the surging hormones and the sweet nothings that Mac was reciting, Aberdeen felt totally overwhelmed. Their lips collided and Mac lifted her up, working her backwards around rock formations and over the plateau until her ass hit cold metal. She fell back against Mac's insistent urges and found that she was lying on the hood of his truck. He spread her knees and burrowed his hips into the newly created space. One of his hands lingered on her hip, buried in the holes of her torn jeans. His other hand clutched in her hair, pulling her face down to his, digging his nails into her scalp. He pulled back to remove her shirt, followed closely by her bra. It wasn't romantic or delicate, but insistent and primal. "Just itchin' for me to fuck ye, huh?"

"Please..." She whimpered. A few minutes before, she was prepared to kill this man but hormonal urges and the burning in the pit of the stomach had gotten the best of her.

He growled before nipping at her breasts, rolling his tongue around her sensitive nipples. She gripped at his coveralls with equal fervor, holding him in fistfuls as closely as she could. The heel of Aberdeen's boot was digging into his back, the other was busy trying to find purchase on the grill of Mac's truck, searching for a foothold.

Mac pulled back only enough to tug his coveralls down. Once his arms were free, the material fell off his narrow hips and bunched around his boots. His erection ground against her calf and he groaned, going for her jean's closure. His deft fingers undid the button and ripped the zipper easily. His hands snaked inside of her jeans and lifted her ass enough to pull her down and spin her around, laying her on the hood of his truck, bent in half in front of him. He pulled her jeans down until they hit the top of her boots. He tugged her forward to the edge of the truck and pushed her black cotton panties to the side, nudging apart her wet folds with the tip of his hard cock as he thrust forward. He brushed the barbell at the hood of her clit before he slid inside her wanton pussy with a loud, feral grunt. The fullness, the friction, caused her to jut forward as his hips met hers, pound after pound. His hands were on her bare thighs, pulling her into him, thrust after thrust. She snaked her hands against her own chest, leaning up just a bit off of the truck so she could pinch her nipples, rolling her fingers as he fucked her mercilessly. "I'mma pound that sweet little pussy. My dirty fuckin' whore." He muttered, grinding into her ass as he tried his best to batter her cervix. He leaned into her, hands on either side of her face, surrounding her and owning all of her senses.

She could feel his cock thumping inside of her, threatening to unload and she tried to maneuver herself away, bringing her hand to her clit in time with his work. She tugged at her piercing and racked her own body with shudders. She was convulsing around him, tight and fast and he couldn't control himself, bursting his hot load inside of her wet confines.

He collapsed on her. He was breathing heavily against her neck, hovering over her bare mark as she fought to catch her breath, her breathing labored due to the extra weight on her chest.


	6. Day 4: Part 2

**I can't apologize enough for this being so very behind. Honestly, there is no excuse, I was putting it off on purpose. I got very upset about this chapter, but I know exactly what had to happen. I've known from the beginning. That didn't make this chapter any easier. **

**In the grand tradition of the Mac muse, this chapter ventured off into unknown territory and veered far away from my notes. That would be another reason this was so very late. I decided to split Day Four into three parts, not two as I originally planned, because this confrontation deserved to stand alone. **

**What happened is a bit unconventional compared to other chapters in the sense that this includes lyrics weaved into the action scene. I was very against this in the beginning, but it somehow just came into fruition. Songs included are **_**Whore**_** by In This Moment and **_**Turning Violent**_** by The Flaming Lips. **

**I will warn you that this is in no way the finale. I have at least one more chapter planned, possibly two. You know me, I finalize everything one chapter at a time so I will never know until I'm done. **

**I hope everyone who has stuck around likes what I've done, as hard as it may be. It's true to the story. Please let me know what you think, good or bad. It will definitely help speed things along if I know what everyone thinks. **

**I cannot stress enough how explicit and mature the following content is. This story contains language, violence, abuse, murder, and mutilation. Please heed accordingly.**

* * *

**Mutual Violent Control:** this kind of violence may be what is thought of as mutual combat. It can be two parties using violence to control each other in a specific setting, or be more like two people attempting a kind of intimate terrorism with each other.

* * *

"It's fucking freezing out here." Aberdeen muttered.

Mac had already rolled his coveralls back up and was digging in his truck for a cigarette. He didn't reply.

Her jeans found their way back up to her rounded hips and she started searching the ground for her top. She found her bra by the driver's front tire well of Mac's old beater. The black lace was covered in red clay. "You couldn't keep it clean, could you?" She muttered and patted as much dust as she could off of the under garment and pulled her arms through the shoulder strap. The shirt was unsalvageable when she located it a few feet away from the truck by a rock formation. She sighed and decided to retreat to her Suburban to find a sweater.

On her way to the vehicle, she picked up the .45 that was earlier discarded. She opened the back door of the vehicle and pulled the safe out from under the driver's seat and put the gun back in its place before hiding the safe box again. Mac seemed otherwise preoccupied with something inside the confines of his truck cabin. She hoped in his drug induced state, he would easily forget the weapon and drop the topic. She resolved to forage through her bag for a new top.

Aberdeen vaguely remembered Mac's conversation with Devon. They were here for a purpose. Maybe the kids got lost. Mac said they had split up, probably another part of Devon's plan that was quickly unraveling around them. Regina was alone in the desert and, with any luck, she was coyote food by now.

This fact strangely comforted Aberdeen. She wasn't worried about the wild beasts, even with the mutilated body in her presence. The smell of death and blood would only draw them in, but Mac was nearby. She felt safe despite herself. She knew hours ago that Mac was supposed to kill her, but he hadn't. If she hadn't run when she did, Devon would have done the job for him. Her thoughts wandered to Harley, who was combing the other side of the desert. With any luck, he had found Devon and his girlfriend and half of their job was done.

"Want me ta start ye a fire? You can sit with yer boy over there." Mac snickered. She just realized she was shivering, having still not found a warm top.

"I'll pass." She sneered, grabbing the first sweater she found and shrugging it on. She was now cloaked in white and blue, horizontal stripes.

"Suit yerself. Yer cousin's late." He muttered. "Wonder what's keeping him..."

It took all of her strength to bit her tongue. The tears began to threaten the rims of her kohl rimmed eyes, but she blinked them away, drying her cheeks as undetectably as possible. "Maybe he found Devon?" She tried to sound as casual as possible.

"Doubt it. He should be free o' his college girl by now."

"That the plan?" She took a deep breath, shutting the door of the Suburban and turning to face him. He was leaning up against his truck. She tried to make out his figure but the only light they had was the full moon and the cherry bud of his cigarette.

"It was. We ain't exactly goin' by the plan now, are we?"

"I'm not sure. You never mentioned any of this shit to me." She scoffed.

"Ye weren't supposed ta be out here. That was Stan's idea. You were s'pose ta be at home, sleepin'."

She absorbed that information, trying to keep her emotions in check. "What's supposed to happen next?"

"Sorority girl's s'pose ta be next." He muttered. "She's the last one."

"Then what happens?"

"Nothin'. Devon gets Regina all to himself and we're off the hook."

"We?"

"Me an' my girl." He growled. "Devon gets what he wants. He always does. Had to get somethin' out o' this little deal."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were being romantic." Aberdeen scoffed.

"'Bout as good as yer gonna git. Thought ye got used to it by now."

She rolled her eyes, desperately wanting to believe him. "You staying out here all night?"

"Gotta hold up my end of the bargain. Keep the old man happy."

"Want company?"

"Git some rest. Wake you up when the action happens." He smirked.

* * *

"Rise an' shine, bitch!" Mac hollered, grabbing Aberdeen's ankle and ripping her from the backseat of the Suburban in one quick motion, dropping her neck first onto the Utah desert.

"Mac, what the fuck?" She tried to pull herself up, propping her upper body up on her elbows.

"Should ask you the same God damn thing, conniving little cunt!" He screamed, throwing the open bag of her things in her face. Her clothes strewn across the desert as the bag had been opened. "You plannin' on fucking leaving me?"

"Mac, it's not like that." She pleaded, her eyes already filled to the brim with tears, a mixture of fear and anger welling up inside of her.

"Like hell it ain't. I look fuckin' stupid to you, bitch?" He growled, slamming the door of the SUV shut behind him.

"Want my honest answer?" She choked.

"Think yer real funny, huh?" He poised his leg to kick her, but she rolled over, instinctively covering her stomach so the tip of his steel-toed boot landed between her ribs.

"It's not what you think! Can I just say something?" She screamed. She pushed herself up to her knees, crawling a foot or so away from her attacker.

"Why bother? Waste o' fuckin' breath. Think you're tough shit, gonna fuck me and then fuckin' leave me?" He didn't put force into his next movement, merely placing a booted foot on her ass cheek and pressing with his weight. She fell back on her face in the dust. "Nobody leaves Mac."

"Where would I go?" She spat. "I don't have anything else, no where else to turn. You're all I have left, you made sure of that. Think I don't know that? I'm yours." She whimpered. Dust had kicked up, clinging in orange streams to the tears running down her cheeks. "I belong to you."

He paused for a moment, taking in her words. He let up, moving his leg and releasing his control of her body for a moment before his hand tangled in her hair and ripped her upright, flinging her back into the side of her car. His lips pressed against hers before she had a chance to breath.

She winced against the kiss, the pain in her back and the pulling at her scalp getting the best of her. His tongue snaked into her mouth, swirling around hers. Aberdeen could taste the bitter, noxious chemicals in his foul mouth. He was once again in the throes of a volatile drug fit, explaining his demeanor.

The hand not tangled in her long, tousled auburn locks snaked up her chest to her throat and locked tightly around her throat. "Say it ag'in."

"I'm Mac's girl." She rasped, her voice forced.

His hand released her throat, finding the collar of her now filthy sweater, ripping the material easily in his deft hands. He pulled the cotton fabric over her shoulder, looking entranced at the mark there. "God damn, right." He growled, placing a hand over her stomach, staring down at her.

That simple, involuntary action sent Aberdeen's mind racing. She wasn't in this alone anymore. There was a giant, life-altering mistake growing inside of her. Whether she let it consume her life or not, it was her decision. Mac wasn't going to let her live this one down. She had a decision to make.

She chose herself.

_I'm the girl you've been thinking about  
The one thing you can't live without  
I'm the girl you've been waiting for  
I'll have you down on your knees  
I'll have you begging for more_

She brought her knee up, hard and fast, connecting with Mac's groin, sending him doubling over in pain for a few seconds. He fell, howling as he dropped to his knees. It was enough time for her to wrench open the driver's side door to her right.

_You probably thought I wouldn't get this far  
You thought I'd end up in the back of a car  
You probably thought that I'd never escape  
I'd be a rat in a cage, I'd be a slave to this place_

"Fuckin' bitch!" He growled, grabbing the back of her jeans and pulling her backwards, onto her back in the hard clay for the second time that day. He wasted no time straddling her hips and wrapping his hands around her throat. "Just full o' good ideas today, huh?"

_You don't know how hard I fought to survive,  
Waking up all alone when I was left to die  
You don't know about this life I've led,  
All these roads I've walked  
All these tears I've bled_

"Fuck you." She rasped, thrashing beneath his hips. She could feel his hard on growing, digging into her lower stomach. He was glaring down at her. She could barely make out his blazing blue stare from the sunlight, now high in the sky and fiercely hot against their skin.

_So how can this be?  
You're praying to me  
There's a look in your eyes,  
I know just what that means  
I can be, I can be your everything  
_

"Don't think I won't, _Aberdeen_." He sneered. "You're mine, I can do whatever the fuck I want." He applied more pressure to her already sore throat. The bruises from a few nights before were a painful reminder of how much she has had to endure. "Got half a mind ta fuck yer ass into the God damn ground and choke ye 'till ye quit fuckin' movin'. Leave yer sweet little ass for the coyotes."

She writhed beneath him, completely disgusted. She should have run when she had the chance. She was going to die in these canyons at the hand of her permanent aggressor. Deep down, she always knew this would happen.

"S'waste o' pussy ye ask me." He held her face, bruisingly tight, kissing her, hard. "Don't wanna lose ye. I'm gonna give ye the benefit o' the doubt. S'hot out. Ye ain't eaten. Yer dehydrated. Yer delirious." He observed. "Give y'a chance ta apologize t'ol' Mac."

_I can be your whore!  
I am the doll you created  
I am your sin  
I am your whore  
But let me tell you something baby  
You love me for everything you hate me for  
_

"Sorry." She muttered under the weight of his grasp, her larynx nearly rupturing beneath his touch.

Mac seemed surprised, cocking his head at her before he replied. "Tha's m'girl." He snickered, shifting slightly on her hips.

_I'm the one that you need and fear  
Now that you're hooked, it's all becoming clear  
That all your judgments that you placed on me  
Was a reflection of discovery_

The waistband of her jeans snagged on the dermal anchor in her left hip and tore, ripping the crystal stud loose from her flesh. Aberdeen screamed.

"Shut th'ell up!" He slapped her, clear across the cheek. Her face landed in the red clay beneath them. He gripped her hands at the wrists and threw her hands above her head. He had her completely pinned.

_So maybe next time when you cast your stones  
From the shadows of the dark unknown  
You will crawl up from your hiding place  
Take a look in the mirror  
See the truth in your face_

A shrill, feminine scream stopped them both in their tracks. The throws of emotion ceased as they both realized that the screams were close. They were no longer out there alone.

"S'about fuckin' time." Mac muttered, looking over the rock formations to see Terra stumbling upon their little camp. The vehicles were still shrouded by clumps of red clay and a steep hill. She didn't know they were there. "You stay put, sweetheart." Mac mocked, tapping Aberdeen's cheek and pursing her lips in his strong hand, pressing his lips to hers one last time. "Be right back."

Mac left Aberdeen there, rounding the corner and finding Terra in hysterics, screaming and crying erratically over Tom's mutilated remains. He quickly forgot Aberdeen even existed. "Well what do we have here?" Mac snickers. "Lost pussy? What? Did golden boy leave ye all alone?" He grabbed her face, kissing her roughly. She tried to push him away but Mac got the upper hand, flinging the girl to the ground easily. "Told that little bitch not to come here! Does he ever listen?"

"Don't touch me!" The brunette screamed, landing a sound punch to Mac's mouth. Mac spat up blood, noting that Devon's girl had loosened his tooth in the process. He proceeds to approach the girl, rolling up his sleeves. Terra jumps at him but he kicks her first, slapping her down to the ground. Terra managed to get up and tried to run, but Mac was too quick, catching her and dragging her back to him, holding her in a chokehold. "You're making me love you." He growled, pushing her to the ground.

_You're making me fuckin' love you. _Aberdeen's coherence was questionable at best. Those words alone resonated in her mind, spurring her to rouse herself, forcing herself up and forward to confront the monster who had captivated her here in this hell.

"You and your little friend. 'Cause all that matters is that at the end of the day, she wasn't the only one that got it." He kicked Terra's legs open. "That cave fucked us all." Devon's girl found a stick on the ground and managed to land another hit against Mac. She tried to make another escape, but once again, Mac was too quick. "Sick of this shit." He spat. Fists flew and Aberdeen had a hard time keeping track of which hand was whose. "You'll beg me, alright." Mac growled, ripping the girl's shirt off.

"You're not gonna do that to me!" Aberdeen screamed.

He stopped, turning his neck just enough so that he could see her. He spat again, more blood in the red clay, then ran the back of one filthy arm across his mouth. "Fuck you gonna do, girl?"

_Turning violent  
Tell me about it_

Aberdeen's bright, sapphire eyes flit quickly between the two people in front of her. Terra had stopped her hysterics long enough to watch Aberdeen's calculating. It was time to make a big decision. "You really want her?" She asked, taking a few steps forward. Terra backed away, stepping closer to Mac. "Fucking have her." She growled, using all of her strength in her weak upper body to push the topless brunette into Mac's open chest.

Shocked by her actions, the two stumbled backwards and lost their footing, falling over the side of the canyon. They landed in a crumpled heap, right in front of Devon and Regina.

_Turn, turn around  
You aren't violent  
Don't turn violent, turn_


	7. Day 4: Part 3

**I was originally going to skip this entire chapter and go on to Day 5, but I had an epiphany and realized I had to include it for the nature of the ending and thanks to FF, I'm a day behind. **

**I'd love to hear your thoughts as this story comes to a close.**

* * *

**Mutual Violent Control:** this kind of violence may be what is thought of as mutual combat. It can be two parties using violence to control each other in a specific setting, or be more like two people attempting a kind of intimate terrorism with each other.

* * *

By the time the shot gun went off, Aberdeen was in her Suburban, searching for her keys. Adrenaline surging through her body, she worked past the pain and locked her doors, finding her keys in a heap on the floor board. She would be gone before Devon had time to reload. She hadn't bothered to see how close to the end of the canyon she was, but there was no way Devon would be able to get to her in time.

She drove until sunset, finding her way to the interstate and waiting until the shadows of darkness could conceal her at the first truck stop she could find.

Exhaustion was beginning to set in, adrenaline was wearing thin, and Aberdeen was getting sore. She rummaged through her purse one last time, knowing she was out of medication.

It was relatively barren at the stop, but she took the precaution of dragging herself and her things into the family restroom. She had to clean herself up if she was ever going to get a proper bath and good nights sleep at a nearby motel.

Standing in front of the mirror, Aberdeen's reflection frightened even herself. Her foundation was blotched, smeared only on the far edges of her hairline. Her eyeliner and mascara had formed tear shaped streaks, rolling around the rims of her eyes and down the hills of her cheeks.

The streams of tears had now turned a sickening shade of brown-red from the dust and red clay of the canyons. Her lip was busted and a few drips of blood had crusted and dried to her chin. After she had succeeded in wetting a wash cloth and removing the remains from her face, she was able to concentrate on the rest of her body.

Her neck was one giant bruise, a disgusting shade of red-based purple. There was no way to disguise it short of putting on a scarf. She might be able to get away with it in the cool desert night. She was more concerned with her labored breathing and difficulty to swallow. If the bastard had crushed her windpipe, she would no doubt need surgery.

Going to the hospital in this condition wasn't an option. Domestic violence was a serious issue. Police would be called, they would need Aberdeen's identification and would want to know who had hurt her and how and too many questions would lead to too much digging into her personal business which would include her past in Los Angeles. She couldn't have that.

She cleared her throat and was met with an agonizing throb, her voice low and raspy. She ran her hand along her throat, wincing immediately. It was definitely swollen. She had to do something.

She turned her attention back to the rest of her body, the other aches and pains she could fix in the moment. She pulled off her sweater and used the damp rag to wipe the blood and clay smears from her chest, arms, and bra, spot cleaning it so she could change into something not ripped and ruined.

She winced when she reached her rib cage. One side was pronounced, an already yellowing bruise in it's place. She hoped they were only bruised and not broken. It was already so hard to breath.

She cleaned the blood from her hip. The spot where her dermal was had already scabbed and would most definitely scar. She sighed heavily and began to choke on her own inward breath, latching onto the sink with both hands and spitting up blood as she coughed. "Fuck." She heaved, trying desperately to calm her breaths.

It took a few minutes to control herself. When she finally had, Aberdeen went to the toilet in the corner of the room to relieve herself.

Mac's semen still dripped from her aching pussy and the thought made her sick. She needed to get him off of her. She no longer belonged to him. She wasn't even sure if Mac still existed, but she knew she wasn't going to go find out. She needed to change her panties, she had worn these since the night Mac had been arrested and the idea of wearing underwear that long was another nauseating one.

She undid her tattered jeans and pushed them, along with her soiled black panties, down her thighs and took a seat, slowly and painfully. She gasped at what she saw.

Blood, dripping down her thighs, soaking the crotch of her cotton underwear and seeping through her jeans. Too much fucking blood. She screamed despite herself, over looking the searing burn of her throat and the over whelming relief that should have been washing over her at that very moment.

* * *

"Miss Stanley?" The nurse asked quietly.

The room was mostly empty and Aberdeen was shaking by herself in the first row of creaky blue chairs. She stood, slowly, trying to stop thinking about the aches all over her body and concentrating on walking into the tiny side office to discuss why she was in the emergency department.

She had located her fake I.D. somewhere in her luggage by the fake passport that Stan had insisted upon incase things with the meth lab had gone south. _Good ol' Stan_, she thought.

She sat across from the nurse who took her blood pressure and weight. "It says here you told the head nurse you were almost four weeks pregnant and started spotting this afternoon?"

"Yes ma'am." Aberdeen managed, adjusting in the chair cautiously. Her throat was tight as she felt the nurses's eyes on her.

She was avoiding the obvious question, probably not sure how to bring up the taboo subject. "Have you been stressed lately?"

Inwardly, Aberdeen scoffed at the comment. She controlled herself, gritting her teeth and taking another agonized breath. "Please, ma'am. I just want to know if it's still alive. I need to know for my own sanity."

"We will take you to the back for a sonogram, Miss Stanley, but I cant help but notice that your throat... have you been in an accident recently?"

"We aren't here for me. I just need to know if it made it. Is it still alive?" Aberdeen snapped. She was near tears and growing more anxious and hostile by the moment.

"Calm down, Miss. We'll go to the back." The nurse said, cautiously standing. There was an overwhelming look of fear in that nurse's eyes. She guided Aberdeen to the back and asked her to strip, handing her a blue gown to put on to cover her nakedness. Then the nurse closed the door and left her there alone.

It took Aberdeen considerably longer to change into the gown. She lay on the table, making sure the brunt of her injuries were covered over by the unflattering gown. She ensured that the wop-sided collar covered the teeth marks on her chest without having to tie the straps on the back of the neckline.

She managed to get herself on the examination table by herself a few moments before there was a rap at the door.

"Ready." She gagged on the word, bringing forward another coughing fit.

The nurse came in, accompanied by another woman with a stethoscope and rolling in a large machine. "Miss Stanley, my name is Doctor Jordan. I'm really concerned about your throat. You seem to be suffering from dyspnea* and a serious case of dysphonia* but I'd need to do an x-ray to be sure."

"Don't worry about me. The baby." Aberdeen choked. "I have to know if it's okay."

"We brought the ultrasound machine, we'll check right now, but afterward I'd like to do an x-ray." She said, tilting Aberdeen's head to get a better look at her throat. "Is there anything else happening that may be affecting your health?"

"What do you mean?" Aberdeen snapped, defensively.

"When I see injuries like this, I wonder if someone could have hurt you? These look like finger marks."

"The baby." She gagged, shaking her head.

The doctor sighed, deciding to calm the woman by acquiescing and giving her the sonogram. "Lie back, Miss."

* * *

Aberdeen lay in the tub, slowly rotating her feet in the warm, soapy water. The grime from the past two days was gone from her body. She was finally clean.

She had narrowly escaped the hospital after the police had been notified and drove another hour before she stopped at a shit hotel for the night, using her fake I.D. once again. Despite her exhaustion, she had to take a bath, needed to feel clean again.

On her way out of the hospital, she managed to swipe some heavy pain killers, the kind you had to inject. The medicine took no time to sink in and affect her aching, tired body.

One thought circled through her head as she soaked: she had to go back to Cainville.

Walter and Devon were still alive, she had no doubt about that. They had wanted her dead before. It was only a matter of time before they found out about the drugs going up in smoke. They weren't the kind of men that let things go. They had that in common with Mac.

_Mac._ She wondered what had happened to Mac. She hadn't gone down to check on him, but she was sure even a psychopath couldn't survive a thirty foot drop onto the hard earth, tweaking on meth or not, Mac was dead. _He had to be. _

Aberdeen could run, she could assume a new identity in God knows where and start a new life. She would never have to see them again, deny their existence, but from the moment she heard the consistent "thub thub, thub thub" of the heart beat in her womb, the thriving life that she was sustaining, despite all of the torment and stress she had endured this week, she knew: another life depended on her.

She was a mother now, and she would do anything to protect the life of her child.

_*difficulty breathing and condition where the voice is hoarse, weak, and excessively breathy_


	8. Day 5

**After much soul searching and contemplation, I have decided to go with my gut instinct on how to end this story. There will be a short epilogue that I will post tomorrow, but consider this the grand finale. **

**I really wanted to tie up the loose ends that the movie created and bring some resolution. I hope you find peace in this ending that I have created. That's ultimately what I wanted to do with one of my favorite OC's. **

**I'd like to thank you all for giving this story the time of day. I really appreciate everyone reading, alerting, and especially reviewing. It means a lot to me, especially with so little Mac material out there. **

**I'd also like to take a moment to shamelessly plug my newest venture in writing; **_**Sunlight Jr**_**. I've started a new fic entitled **_**Show Me Love**_**. If you enjoyed the movie or, more importantly, loved Justin, I would keep my eyes peeled for that to post after the first of January. I'm very excited to share it with you all. **

**If you're squeamish (which is doubtful) I suggest looking away. Explicit language and a tad bit of gore follows. **

* * *

**Mutual Violent Control:** this kind of violence may be what is thought of as mutual combat. It can be two parties using violence to control each other in a specific setting, or be more like two people attempting a kind of intimate terrorism with each other.

* * *

_I hate you for the sacrifices you made for me  
I hate you for every time you ever bled for me  
I hate you for the way you smile when you look at me  
I hate you for never taking control of me_

_I hate you for always saving me from myself_  
_I hate you for always choosing me and not someone else_  
_I hate you for always pulling me back from the edge_  
_I hate you for every kind word you ever said_  
_I'll bleed you dry now_

"_Blood" by In This Moment _

It was late when Aberdeen pulled into the parking lot of the Luna Mesa. It was a typical week night at the Mesa, maybe a handful of stragglers cohabiting at the bar, listening to God awful country trash music and drinking over priced booze as they discussed the day's happenings.

A good night's sleep and a large meal had really done the trick for Aberdeen, though the morphine had started to trickle off. She told herself that after tonight she would let the drugs wear off and deal with the pain on her own. She knew it wasn't good for the baby, but neither was leaving Cainville with Walter and Devon still running rampant.

She grabbed Stan's .45 and tucked it in the back of her clean black jeans before jumping out of the cab of her SUV and slipping on her knee high boots. She wore all black for the special occasion.

Instead of heading right inside, she slunk around the side of the building. She found the main breaker box along the wall that faced the garage. In between the two buildings was the trash hopper, surrounded by debris. Memories flooded back as she tried to focus. She took a deep breath and tripped the switch.

Every light at the Luna Mesa oasis shut off, from the security light to the sign over the gas pumps, the parking lot was pitch black. You could hear the low, dull drone of cohesive groans in the bar as the music and illumination died simultaneously.

She found her pocket knife in the tight denim of her jeans and used the blade to slit a red wire, fraying the ends before wrapping them loosely together and flipping the switch back on.

Every light flickered slightly before gradually going from dim to bright. Every light, that is, except for the Luna Mesa itself.

She followed the wall of the main building until she reached the porch. She grabbed the lowest rung on the side of the porch and hoisted herself up and under the wooden slats so she stood on the porch, just in front of the Mesa.

She was quiet, trying to control her breathing as she focused on listening, closing her eyes to open her other senses. She hoped she had learned enough from Stan to be able to pull this off.

"Mierda! Mierda!" She heard the familiar voice scream. Her eyes popped open and she saw the glow of the lights flickering in the window behind her.

"Dad! Dad! Are you okay?" Devon screamed. "Someone call 911!" Aberdeen smirked, obviously pleased with herself. She pulled herself up from her leaning position on the side of the building and grabbed the handle of the .45 in her waistband. She walked right up to the front door of the shady establishment and let herself in.

Inside, she found Walter twitching on the floor. Shorting out the wires to the bar had sent enough volts of electricity through the old man to cause some sort of seizure, maybe a heart attack. Aberdeen wasn't a doctor, so she couldn't be sure. Devon was on his knees at his father's side, trying to hold him still, but really providing no sort of assistance.

Aberdeen recognized the handful of locals at the bar, but she needed to save her voice. _"Vocal rest and lots of fluids."_ The doctor had said before they had called the police. All Aberdeen had to do was raise the gun and fire one shot into the ceiling, cracking the plaster and creating a noise that echoed through the building. The people scattered like cockroaches and left her alone in the room with Walter and Devon.

"I thought you said Mac's little puta was dead, son." Walter choked the words out, a low wheezing in his voice.

"She should be. I left her wandering the canyons. There's no way she could make it back." Devon growled, still holding his old man's arm as he glared daggers at Aberdeen.

"Standing here, aren't I?" She snickered.

"Can't say the same for Mac." Devon smirked. "Or Stan, for that matter."

Aberdeen growled, low and raspy, and raised the gun in both hands, training it on Devon's head.

Slowly, Devon stood. He made sure Walter was still breathing, labored as it was, as he tried to slow his own pulse. "You think you're so fucking tough? Pull the trigger, bitch. I dare you."

Aberdeen steadied her finger as it twitched on the trigger, stopping herself to calm her mind. In that moment of hesitation, Devon lunged, his thin, knobby shoulder connecting with the center of her chest. He barreled into her breast plate, knocking the wind out of her and sending the gun sailing over the bar. It clanked against the wall, firing and shattering a few bottles when it dislodged the corner of the liquor shelf. Aberdeen's back fell into the counter with a sickening thud and she felt every ache in her body throb and pulse under the immense pressure. All of Devon's weight was on her stomach and she kicked up with all her might, managing to move the lanky young man. She kicked him one last time, this time hearing a glorious pop as blood began to drip in torrents out of his nose and along his mouth.

"Fucking bitch!" He screamed, but she was already crawling along the bar as he held the bridge of his nose. She clambered to her feet and searched the fallen debris behind the bar for her gun.

Devon pushed past the pain, still seeing red. He jumped up and ran around the opposite side of the counter. Aberdeen and Devon were at a stand off, glaring at each other, challenging the other to make the first move. Aberdeen dove heard first into the broken glass, finding the gun underneath the neck of a bottle of Maker's Mark.

Before she could act, Devon had his hand on the bruises of her wrist, trying to wrestle the gun from her hands. He elbowed her in the left breast, knocking her into the wall, her back falling into the broken shelf that is hanging haphazardly there. His teeth sink into her arm, causing her to scream despite the pain in her throat. She stomps on his instep, bringing her knee back into his broken nose. This time he doesn't react.

Aberdeen managed to find the trigger and squeezed, not worrying where it's aimed, just hoping to stun Devon enough to gain control. She is rewarded with a sickening screech. Devon squealed, dropping his hold on Aberdeen's arm, grabbing instead his right foot, now bleeding profusely. She had shot his foot.

Aberdeen takes this opportunity to grab the neck of the bottle of Jack Daniel's, still sitting on the bar of the Luna Mesa, and cracking the decorative glass over Devon's head. The slinky young man falls limp with a thud, the rich amber liquid pouring languidly over his body.

Walter screamed, a mixture of violent curses she couldn't translate. Aberdeen was too numb to care. The old man was still paralyzed, shaking on the floor of his bar. _Oh, how the mighty have fallen. _

Aberdeen came around the bar, slowly, making every footfall count as Walter screamed at her. She stopped when she reached the old bandido's head, kneeling beside him and locking eyes with his**. **"I want you to look into my eyes, Walter." She whispered, her voice lower than usual. "I want to let you in on a little secret."

"I already know you burned my product. Stupid thing to do, little girl."

"That's not a secret. I wanted you to know I did that. Such a shame that Mac's not here to make anymore." She sighed. "Bad for business."

"If that's the case, I have something I should tell you."

"No, I'm done listening to you! What I want to tell you might be even better. I think it's important for you to know before I kill you." She leaned in closer, brushing her lips against the lobe of his ear. "I'm pregnant." She watched his eyes grow wide and smirked to herself. "It's Mac's. Congratulations. You're a grandfather."

She rose slowly, planting the sole of her boot on Walter's throat and pressing down. By the time she heard the snap of his larynx, she had the lighter out of her front jean pocket. She flipped the top of the Zippo and threw the lighter over the bar. She watched for a moment as the liquor ignited and the flames rose in height until the entire bar was engulfed in dancing red glow. Then, she walked away.

* * *

Aberdeen heard the whimpers as she made her way to the car. She told herself she was imagining it, but there was no way. It was coming from the motel behind the Mesa. She followed the noise to room 5, the one she knew best. The door was unlocked and she pushed it open to find Reggie, strapped to the bed. Her black button up was open to reveal a beige bra and heather gray boy shorts, hanging around her knees. There was a blue rag tied in her mouth as she cried on the bed.

She realized in that moment what a sick fuck Devon really was.

"Fucking hell…" She sighed, knowing she couldn't leave the poor girl tied to the bed like an animal. No matter what contempt she had for Regina, she wouldn't be able to live with herself knowing she had left her there, tied up like an invalid as her brother burned to death in the neighboring building.

She rushed to the side of the bed and pulled the gag from the girl's mouth. "He made me! He made me do it! He saw everything! He saw everything!" She screamed hysterically, launching herself forward.

"Shhh…" Aberdeen tried to chastise the girl but it was no use. "You're safe now. Devon can't touch you again. He's dead. They're all dead."

"He found us! The masked man found us!"

Aberdeen bit her lip, trying to make sense of the situation. She knew Regina would never understand. She grabbed the first strap, binding one of Regina's wrists and undid it. "The masked man is gone, too. He can't hurt you anymore."

The girl kept crying in a sniveling heap as Aberdeen got her restraints undone. "Harley. Harley!" She gasped again as Aberdeen pulled the last ankle strap loose.

Aberdeen had almost forgotten about Harley. She followed the girl's line of sight until she spotted the slain deputy hanging halfway out of the motel shower. "Jesus Christ. Let's get you out of here, Reggie."

She drug the girl to the garage and hoisted the door, instantly getting a whiff of the familiar smell of paint fumes and motor oil.

"Can you drive, Regina?" There was no reply, the girl only silently sobbed as she stood awkwardly in the garage. "Regina?" Aberdeen said more firmly. The young woman's eyes finally looked up to meet Aberdeen. "Are you okay to drive?" Slowly, the girl nodded. "Alright then." She muttered. She pushed open Mac's office and rummaged through the box on the wall, just beside the door, that housed the keys to the cars in the building. She fingered the keys until one tagged '32' caught her eye.

She left the office, running through the garage to find the Nissan with the accompanying numeral '32' hanging from the rear view mirror. She popped the driver's door and leaned in, putting the key in the ignition and starting the engine. When she stood again, Reggie was beside her, holding her arms tight against her chest and shivering. "Here you go." Aberdeen nodded to the running vehicle. "Head to the interstate. About two hours out, there's a hospital. They can help you." She explained quietly. Without warning, Regina jumped forward and wrapped her arms around Aberdeen's neck and hugged her tightly before falling into the driver's seat of the car. Aberdeen watched the taillights dim in the distance before she ran to her Suburban.

The flames had swallowed the entire Luna Mesa and were working their way to the porch by the time Aberdeen was in her vehicle. Slowly, methodically, she pulled off her boots and slipped into the driver's seat, fingering the key in the ignition. She was the only car in the parking lot.

She sat, completely numb in the front seat with her hand on her stomach, watching the flames dance as she caught her breath.

The mind blowing realization hit her: she was finally free.


	9. Epilogue

**I had two drafts of this epilogue written, both very different. Ultimately, this one seemed to be more me, more Mac, more fitting for this story. Thanks to my impartial, Annabeth, for making me see that. I deleted the other draft. **

**I hope I did you all justice. Your kind words and recognition mean the world to me. **

**This story is dedicated to Alva Starr. She fed me the ideas and I ran with them. Without her, Aberdeen wouldn't be possible. This started out as a little one-shot a few months ago and turned into so much more. It's really hard for me to see her go. I hope you approve.**

* * *

_18 months later, just outside of Reno, NV_

The driveway was long, the house secluded, just how Aberdeen wanted. Noah babbled in the backseat as Aberdeen pulled up to their home. Noah was almost one now. It had been over a year since the massacre in Cainville, since Aberdeen had lost her family, the only living people who meant anything to her.

Now there was Noah.

Noah was still young, still developing, but from the moment he was born, she could see the similarities. Noah came out of her womb with stark white hair and eyes the clearest crystal Aberdeen had ever seen. That is, except for one man before. They haunted her every waking moment.

Aberdeen was making a living by being a freelance artist, dabbling in photography and painting portraits when she wasn't busy working part time as an office clerk at the garage beside the local diner. The smell of gasoline, paint fumes, and motor oil often haunted her, giving her frequent flashbacks, ones she had to quell with prescription narcotics.

She had done her best as single mother. She went by the name Abigail Stanley, now. They were able to buy a house and land under that name with the money from her savings, the money she had gotten from Stanley helped to pay the bills.

People asked about Noah's father almost daily. Aberdeen merely said he died in battle. That was the truth, after all. He had died in a battle. After that they stopped asking questions. People accepted it, even if Aberdeen couldn't.

The backdoor to the house, which she usually locked twice, with the regular lock and a padlock, was left ajar, gapped an inch from its rightful place in the doorjamb.

Aberdeen shook her head, telling herself she had merely forgotten to lock it in her rush to get Noah to daycare on time. Noah had kept her up all night. She didn't get much sleep anyway. He always made sure of that.

Aberdeen got out of the Suburban, making her way to backseat where Noah still cried gleefully to be home. He was shy, antisocial. Yet another similarity. Instinctively, Aberdeen placed a hand on the black widow tattoo on her shoulder, covering a ring of teeth shaped scars in that place. It was visible beneath the thin straps of her camisole, having already discarded her work blouse in the desert heat.

Logically, Aberdeen should have moved farther away, thousands of miles from Cainville and it's many tortures, but she just couldn't stand the cold. The desert was her home, no matter how many horrors lurked in the night.

"Bub bub bub. Yes, Noah. We're home." She cooed. She unlocked Noah from his car seat and lifted him with a huff. He was nearly twenty-five pounds now. She bounced him on her hip with one arm, grabbing his diaper bag and her purse in the other. She had now mastered this task, juggling three things at once.

She approached the door, pushing it easily with the hand that clutched the bags. She took a step forward, entering the kitchen. By the dining room table was Noah's playpen. Aberdeen sat the bouncing boy in the pen and he immediately picked up a stuffed monkey with a rattle inside. It was one of his favorites. He bashed the stuffed animal into the wall of the pen and giggled as Aberdeen grabbed the mail from her purse. She shook her head as she browsed the covers of the envelopes slowly, finding nothing of interest and setting the envelopes on the dining table. She decided to start dinner.

She entered the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to find the milk, setting it on the counter. That's when she saw it. The salt was spilt on the black marble counter, drawn in the center was a crude interpretation of a spider.

She screamed, more loudly than she intended and smeared the drawing with her hand, finding that it was indeed there. Salt spattered on the dark cherry floors of the kitchen. She ran to the dining table and dumped the contents of her purse to find the little orange bottle marked 'Zoloft.' She wrenched open the cap and downed two tablets, willing the memories, the pain away.

She heard the snicker close behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the silhouette. She blinked, willing the image to just be in her mind. Her mind was only playing a cruel, cruel trick on her. "No, no, no, no, no." She muttered, running her hands down her cheeks, pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes. "This can't be happening. You're dead. You're fucking dead. I killed you myself."

"Y'ain't so lucky, sweetheart. Thought ye'd fuckin' run out on me. Shoulda done a better job hidin'." He stepped closer. His voice, so real. The footfalls, the sound of his boots on the hard wood floor, sounding so vivid, she thought she felt the slight tremors of his presence nearing. She lowered her hands, but kept her eyes closed tight. "Took me a while ta find ye."

She blinked, almost sure that his strong, calloused hand was resting on the spider tattoo on her collarbone. It felt as though his chest brushed against the scope of her back. She shivered, convinced she felt his rancid breath tickling the faint baby hairs on her neck, warm against the shell of her ear. "Ye did me proud. Ol' man an' golden boy... well, they didn't even see it comin'." He muttered, his lips close to her throat.

Slowly, he trailed his finger tips along her collar bone, wrapping his deft fingers around her throat easily. He applied little pressure and tilted her head back against his shoulder. "M'girl's so fuckin' tough." He growled.

Never had her visions been this vivid before. Surely, if this was Mac, she wouldn't still be alive. Noah cooed in the playpen, giggling loudly. She was almost sure this was reality. If only that fucking Zoloft would kick in soon. "He's mine, ain't he? S'why ye ran?"

"No, Mac. He's mine. He was never yours." She whispered, self-assuredly.

The grip on her throat tightened, as did her eyelids. She never once opened her eyes. "Yer a fuckin' liar, _Aberdeen_." He sneered. It had been so long since she had heard her real name, she shivered. "I ain't stupid. I kin do the fuckin' math."

"You would have never wanted him." She gasped, her throat strained against his palm.

"Ye might be right. Guess we'll never know, huh?" He released her, the presence no longer holding her upright; she stumbled backwards, falling against the kitchen island.

She was forced to open her eyes. She saw him, leaning his back against the cabinets, just beside the refrigerator. She didn't know if this was real or just her vivid imagination finally getting the best of her. She wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"S'alright though." He laughed, pushing himself off of the counter. He stomped past her, over to the play pen where Noah had stopped giggling, chewing quietly on the monkey's ear. Mac leaned over the pen, eyes intent on the little boy sitting in it's confines. "I forgive ye." He grunted, leaning down and picking up the baby. Aberdeen shook, but she couldn't will her feet to move. "Now we can just be one big, happy family." Mac cradled the child, close to his chest and smiled down at his flesh and blood. "Isn't that right, _son_?"


End file.
